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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25011679">baby blue</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/soldouthaz/pseuds/soldouthaz'>soldouthaz</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>One Direction (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Actor Louis, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Anxious Louis, Barn Sex, Bessie the cow, Blow Jobs, Bottom Louis, Celebrity Louis, Cowboy AU, Cowboy Harry, Enemies to Lovers, Famous Louis, Guns, Hate to Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Famous Harry, Paranoid Louis, Riding, Some minor violence, Southern Harry, Top Harry, Unsafe Sex, a shirt that says save a horse ride a cowboy, because it's texas, country vernacular, dislike to love, emotional bull riding, if anyone doesn't like that, louis riding harry in a cowboy hat, oh and they eat meat, one mention of past drug use, one scene of, or - Freeform, sorry - Freeform, there's a scene where a cow gives birth?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:46:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>39,439</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25011679</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/soldouthaz/pseuds/soldouthaz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> Harry Styles takes his time coming out to greet them. Louis only knows what he’s seen on file and what he’s heard them talking about, but he fully lives up to the image he had inside of his head. </i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>He saunters down the front steps of the farmhouse in his Levi’s, brown snakeskin boots curving out from underneath the denim Louis’ sure he had specially made. He’s got on a plaid button-down tucked into the jeans because of course he does, curls spilling out from either side of his cowboy hat around his sunglasses and country-tan skin. </i></p><p>  <i>“Harry Styles,” he drawls, extending a hand to Louis’ manager, “Pleased to meet ya’ll.” </i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>135</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>776</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. 0.1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I thought I'd jump on the cowboy harry bandwagon and do my own take on it :) that being said, I've had most of this written for months now so if any of these ideas have been repeated in other recent works, I sincerely apologize as it was not my intention to copy them! all ideas were/are my own. a big, fat, wonderful thank you to ris (<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsegoodnight/pseuds/falsegoodnight">falsegoodnight</a> ) for beta-ing this mess and always helping me when I push things to the absolute last second!! I've got no idea where I'd be without you :)))))</p><p>please feel free to let me know what you think and enjoy! </p><p>DISCLAIMER : there is a scene of home invasion toward the end of this fic, as well as several mentions of guns and light violence. it gets resolved and everyone is okay/no major characters are majorly hurt, but if any of that sort of thing bothers you please feel free to skip it over! please message me if you have any questions or concerns before reading - I would be more than happy to discuss it with you! :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Deep green pine trees line the gravel road they’re travelling on, the expensive car wheels grating down the perpetually long drive. Rows of various crops and tall grass fills Louis’ vision blurrily as they pass by outside of his window. His seatbelt jabs into his ribs with each pothole, but he keeps perfectly still despite his growing discomfort. He supposes he should try to get used to feeling that way from now on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he could he’d be lounging in one of his condos in downtown Calabasas, but he doesn’t have much of a choice in the matter. When he shuts his eyes he can see himself reclined on his patio in the afternoon sunshine, a drink in his hand, happily ignoring his manager’s calls up until the last second. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he opens them he’s reminded that he’s anywhere but there. Instead, he’s in a middle-of-nowhere Texas town he doesn’t even know the name of, the heat so sweltering that he can feel it through the hood of the SUV. Louis sighs and unlocks his phone restlessly, scrolling through his endless notifications before pocketing it once again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At twenty-seven years old, he feels like he has a pretty good handle on things. He’s made a name for himself, created a career and a steady source of income. Louis knows how to live on his own and what being an adult means, and he even - </span>
  <em>
    <span>sometimes</span>
  </em>
  <span> - does his own laundry. His point is, he’s perfectly capable of surviving on his own- an independent man and all of that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nobody seems to care. His team types away on all of their devices, laptops and cell phones programmed with their exact location as they talk quietly into their headsets, and Louis glares at them just to make himself feel better. He’s so tired of being stuck underneath their thumbs that it isn’t the first time he’s considered just opening the door and running away from them, away from </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the farthest thing from a realistic dream in his case, but it’s a dream nonetheless. And sometimes it's the only one that gets him out of bed in the morning. Other days he covers his head with his silk pillow cases and sighs to the tune of his phone vibrating off the side of the night table and doesn’t leave it until someone physically drags him out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He isn’t sure exactly what time they left early that morning, but through the flight and the car ride Louis’ sure it’s been at least a good seven hours, if not more. In fact, it feels like an infinite amount of time has passed by the time they make it to their destination, pulling off onto a gravel road already a few hours from the highway and the airport. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis gulps as the car comes to a halt in front of an iron gate, a giant </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘S’</span>
  </em>
  <span> emblazoned onto the front of it. There are phones beeping and buzzing and soon enough the gate is unlocked, and then they’re pulling down an even longer drive to the actual house. There’s nothing out here but miles of nothingness, fields of rolled hay and animals milling about underneath the trees to escape the beating heat and humidity. He spares one last thought for his styled hair, pushing it out of his face mechanically before it becomes frizzy like the tumbleweeds that keep blowing by in front of the tires. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, they stop again. This time when Louis glances out the front of the SUV he can see the house, small and tucked away on the corner of the lot. Diagonal to it is a large red barn which shocks him at first, the size of it unlike any he’s ever seen. And, well, he’s never really seen a barn before, so he figures he can’t actually compare it to anything. He slides forward on the seat when he’s the last one left in the vehicle, grimacing and running his fingers over the leather seats one last time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he catches his own eyes in the rearview mirror, they’re a dull, lifeless blue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stepping hesitantly out of the car, Louis cringes as his expensive shoes meet the dirt. Grainy and dark brown, it dusts over the material and leaves marks that he knows will be exceedingly difficult to get out later on - not that he’ll be the one cleaning them. He steps into line, the last spot still closest to the escalade, arms crossed as his team waits for Louis’ gracious host to show. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry Styles takes his time coming out to greet them. Louis only knows what he’s seen on file and what he’s heard them talking about, but he fully lives up to the image he had inside of his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He saunters down the front steps of the farmhouse in his Levi’s, brown snakeskin boots curving out from underneath the denim Louis’ sure he had specially made. He’s got on a plaid button-down tucked into the jeans because </span>
  <em>
    <span>of course</span>
  </em>
  <span> he does, curls spilling out from either side of his cowboy hat around his sunglasses and country-tan skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry Styles,” he drawls, extending a hand to Louis’ manager, “Pleased to meet ya’ll.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis already hates him. He watches as he makes his way through the group, each member of his team shaking his hand eagerly. When he stops in front of him, Louis keeps his arms firmly crossed, a permanent frown etched into his lips as he squints against the harsh sunlight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry draws his hand back and slips a thumb into his belt loop, using the other to raise his hat in greeting. Noting his stereotypical appearance, Louis finds it offsetting that he can’t see his eyes through the dark shades when he talks. Sharp rays of light glint off of a cross necklace where it dangles between his open collar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re so thrilled you’ve decided to do this for us,” his manager says from beside them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the terms we agreed to,” Harry suggests without missing a beat, raising a brow at them expectantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a quiet huff somewhere down the line and his assistant pulls out a thick envelope, offering it to Harry. He accepts it greedily, peeking inside to check if it’s all there. There’s much more where that one came from, and he bets Harry’s ecstatic already for the paycheck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows this is the entire reason Harry accepted their offer in the first place. Louis isn’t daft, he understands he isn’t always a joy to be around, and Harry obviously needs the cash. When he glances around them parts of the wooden fence leading up to the barn are rotting, a garden to the side looks like it’d died years ago now. His crops in the distance don’t look much better. Being on a quiet farm is much different than the throngs of screaming fans he’s long since been accustomed to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d arranged to send him a hefty sum each month for his services - essentially for putting up with Louis for an undetermined period of time. A job most difficult, apparently. Louis knows he should be ashamed for the smirk that falls onto his lips, thinking about all of the ways he’s going to make him wish he’d never offered up his help in the first place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Harry grins, fixing his sunglasses higher on his nose and stuffing the envelope into his shirt pocket once he’s thumbed through his first paycheck, “Would ya’ll like a tour?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>+</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis’d zoned out while they explained everything to Harry again. Actively trying not to hear them, he roams around on his own but doesn’t go far, afraid he might get lost and completely embarrass himself before he’s even been here a full hour. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s all fun and games until his team finally pulls out of the driveway. They’re nice enough to stay for the tour of the lot but they make a hasty exit right afterward, leaving Louis alone with the stranger. The envelope of cash is still fully visible in his front pocket, displayed like some kind of trophy. Louis meets his eye, then promptly turns and walks back the way he was going before in the opposite direction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily though, there seems to be a lot of space. Every room is longer than it should be with taller ceilings and leather furniture, a cow printed throw in front of the fireplace in the living room when Harry showed them. From the hardwood to the animals roaming outside the door, Louis has absolutely no doubt that he’s in the middle-of-nowhere backroads of Texas. He doesn’t even care to know their exact location if he’s honest, and it might just be safer that way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a spring of water out the back gate where Harry says he can swim, but Louis can’t imagine getting in the filthy, fishy water. At most, he might take advantage of the walking trail when he wants to get away from the house. It may be large, but there’s only one kitchen and one television, both of which he can already tell Harry frequents often. Not that Louis blames him, really - he can’t imagine there’s all that much to do around here when he’s not tending to the animals or the food. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis spends most of the afternoon checking out the grounds while it’s still light outside. And by grounds he means the literal </span>
  <em>
    <span>ground</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He’d meant it when he said there was nothing out here. He spends a while kicking around some dirt, wondering about how many acres are from where he’s standing to the thick tree line in front of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually he stumbles upon a small greenhouse in the backyard, the door slightly ajar. Slipping inside, Louis notes all of the different plants, some growing flowers while others grow what looks to be berries and some other food. He reaches up a hand to touch one, startling when the door opens behind him again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his heartbeat echoing inside of his ears and nausea beginning to swirl violently in his stomach, he spins around so fast his vision goes blurry. It takes him a few seconds to realize that it’s just Harry, and then to calm himself down enough to be able to speak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry - didn’t mean’ta startle you,” Harry says slowly, “Just wanted to say your bags are all put up in your room if you need anything. Gonna start makin’ dinner in a few if you’re hungry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis’ head jerks with a quick nod, his arms now crossed protectively over his chest. Harry mirrors his acceptance but then hesitates, lingering in the small doorway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know your way back from here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be fine,” Louis bites. The house can’t be too far, he thinks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alrighty,” Harry says, tipping his hat a bit awkwardly. “Holler if you need anything. I’ll leave the back door open for you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After he gets a few meters away, Louis rushes forward to shut the enclosure door again, leaning his back against it and sliding down until he’s sitting on the grimy floor. He’d thought maybe he would last a few days before it got old, possibly even an entire week. But he’s already unsteady, feeling severely out of place here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaning his head back until it thunks against the wall, he tries to take in deep, even breaths. The bottom line is that there isn’t anything he can do. He could pull out his phone right now (if he even has any </span>
  <em>
    <span>service</span>
  </em>
  <span>) and dial his manager to complain about how he wants to go back, but it wouldn’t do him any good. He’d tried all of that before they’d even left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It might not have been a problem had Louis been the type to be okay being on his own, but that’s never been the case. He needs noise or company or </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> to drown out the background noise of his thoughts, permanently frayed after years of screaming crowds and applause and cameras flashing in his face. There is no more quiet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, not in LA anyway. Right now it’s the opposite - the silence licks up the sides of the greenhouse, binding the walls smaller and smaller on top of him. It’d felt private and roomy earlier, but within minutes he’s gone back to being scared again. Even Harry’s southern drawl had provided somewhat of a distraction. Now, the white noise of the potted plants swaying lightly in the wind seems to scrape the inside of his eardrums raw, exceptionally loud even though it’s no more deafening than a whisper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scrambling to stand, Louis swallows down the nausea and pulls open the door again, yanking his sweater over his hands and walking back in the direction of the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As much as he hates to admit it, he’s glad Harry left the back door open for him. The sky is beginning to darken, thick clouds for as far as he can see, leaving the single rectangle of the door illuminated in contrast. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes his time walking back through the tall grass. He’s still nervous out here, still glancing over his shoulder every few seconds at the treeline behind him as it grows darker and darker, but it’s less. At least out here he’s in the open, could yell or make a run for it if he had to. He’s hoping with everything he’s got that it never comes to that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis’ decided recently that he’s going to focus on the small things. The little victories that he used to ignore. So he breathes in again and out through his nose, already getting close to the house. He felt claustrophobic in the greenhouse, and so he left. He went outside and it made him feel better in return. However small, it feels like a step in the right direction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Louis looks down he’s got a thick, fresh layer of horse shit coating the bottom of his shoe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>+ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dinner is anything but titillating. Harry tries for small talk only once over the course of the meal, keeping to himself when it becomes obvious that Louis isn’t going to speak to him. That’s fine, Louis reasons. The only reason Harry even accepted the offer in the first place was for the money. Louis doesn’t owe him anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has yet to change out of his clothes that he wore this morning, desperate for a shower but leery of being alone upstairs just yet. He’ll get there, he’s sure of it. Just - not quite yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry doesn’t even bother waiting for him to finish eating, standing to take his bowl to the sink. Louis can hear him wash it off and set it down, passing back through the dining area to get to the living room. Boots sat up near the front door, Harry’s socked feet pad throughout the house, echoing on the hardwood so that the floor vibrates under Louis’ feet with each step. He tosses him a glare but Harry doesn’t seem to notice, settling down into one of the chairs and flipping the television on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cool bowl of soup stares up at Louis as he moves it around with his spoon. He’s not quite sure if he isn’t hungry because he’s still a bit nauseous or if he’s still a bit nauseous because he’s hungry, so he forces down a few more spoonfuls and a long drink of water before he puts his dishes in the sink as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s no clock in the room as Louis’ phone is charging by the door, but it doesn’t feel late enough to go to bed yet. Biting the inside of his cheek, he trudges into the living room and sits down on the end of the sofa before he can talk himself out of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A black and white episode of something is playing and Louis squints at it, trying to figure out what’s going on. It’s the kind of show that’s always grated on his nerves, all crackly and monochrome, the noise fading in and out with the satellite on the roof. To be honest he never watches much television anyway, but if he’s going to he’d at least like it to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>consistent</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Maybe have an attractive lead or something like that to keep him entertained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is boring,” he says bluntly, crossing and recrossing his ankles on the sofa with a huff. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S’not boring,” Harry insists. “It’s got a better lesson than any of the stuff produced today. Sorry it’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Real Housewives</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The slight grin that Harry tucks into his shoulder irks Louis more than it should. Harry hadn’t even looked at him when he talked, barely even moving his mouth so he could still hear the noise coming from the busted speakers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And </span>
  <em>
    <span>lessons</span>
  </em>
  <span>, honestly? Who watches television to learn anymore, he wonders. Surely not anyone </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> knows. Personally, shows like this are just a big waste of time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, whatever,” Louis scoffs. “Thanks for dinner. I’m going to bed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Suit yourself,” Harry calls after him, eyes still glued to the screen. “Night.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Huffing with each step, Louis’ curses are drowned out by the prominent creak of the wooden staircase underneath his feet. It gets darker the further he climbs, the walls seeming even more narrow as he nears the landing at the top though he’s pretty sure it’s just in his head. Louis spins on his heel and glances back down to where he can see the light flickering from Harry’s television, then shakes his head and keeps moving determinedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s spent countless nights in other people’s homes before, dark hours in tour buses and hotel rooms with no issue. But, ever since things have changed over the past few months, he’s become a bit more leery. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sleeping back then had been easy because he’s been so exhausted lately, mentally too weak to fight wherever he landed at night, wherever that happened to be. Tonight he’s feeling wired though, and his brain is searching for every excuse to keep his eyes wide open and his back stuck straight with fear. This isn’t just another penthouse in California where he could leave at any point. He’s actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>stuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> here, and as of right now, it’s indefinitely. It could be days, but it could also be months before he finally gets to leave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s an average country guest room, vintage wallpaper spanning from wooden floor to high, vaulted ceiling. Harry’s got up curtains that remind him of his nan’s old furniture and the bedsheets are no better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that isn’t what bothers him. The sun had set ages ago now but the moonlight peaks in from the large window where the curtains have been pushed to one side. A tall tree with eerie looking branches scrapes the glass every so often, echoing loudly in the large room. To his left, the door to the ensuite sits slightly ajar, nothing but harsh blackness when he looks over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything is too quiet. Louis bounds over to the bedside, every footstep ringing in his ears, to flip on the lamp which flickers a few times before it stays on. He hops onto the bed and slides underneath the sheets as fast as he can. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he gets there, he doesn’t feel any safer. In fact, he only feels more isolated than when he’d been next to the door, less safe if someone tried to come in through the window. Fists balled up in his lap, Louis tries to relax against the intricately carved headboard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Little breaths come in through his nose and out through his mouth like he’d been taught, but even that doesn’t ease his nerves. The AC unit kicks on near the window and the bathroom door creaks open a bit more and Louis bolts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s headed back downstairs in seconds, leaving the bedroom door swung wide open in his haste. A bit breathless when he reaches the ground floor again, Harry glances over at him with a brow raised, his tongue running along his bottom teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Problem?” He asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis shakes his head and heads back to the chair he’d been in earlier, aiming for nonchalant even as his heartbeat pounds in his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m just not tired yet.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wrapping himself up in the sea of flannel blankets, Louis keeps his eyes on the television so he won’t have to see Harry’s reaction. The same show is on as when he’d left but this time he views it with newfound interest. Anything to keep himself distracted, to get his heart rate back down to normal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Down here there aren’t any large windows like in the bedroom. There’s a fan in the corner of the room that blows cool air onto his sweat-tacky skin, drowning out any unnecessary background noise in the process. With the television volume on low, Louis listens to the show on the television as it drones on quietly in the background. Already his eyes feel heavier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis pretends it’s because of the room and not the presence of another person that he feels so much safer now, and promptly falls asleep. Tired from the journey and the new environment, his nerves finally sizzle down to just a low thrum. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>+</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning,” Harry says, grinning at Louis as he rounds the corner into the kitchen. “There’s some cereal if you want it for breakfast, I’ve gotta go into town in a bit to get some more groceries.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Squinting, Louis knuckles at the sleep in his eyes from being out on the couch all night, too tired to wake up and move to the bedroom during the night. He nods halfheartedly, glancing at the array of cereal boxes in the open pantry. The sight of all of it makes Louis a bit sick to his stomach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said you’re going to the store?”  He asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry nods, “Yeah, that and a few other errands.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going with you,” Louis says, heading to the entryway to pick up his shoes where he’d left them before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No you aren’t,” Harry shakes his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning back around, Louis fixes him with his best early morning glare, though it doesn’t seem to do any good. “Excuse me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry brushes past him to get to his coat, slipping it over his shoulders and fixing his hat on top of his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You aren’t allowed out anywhere, remember? Anybody sees you and your little team will find somewhere even </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> secluded to put’ya.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, well, he’s right - Louis </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> want that. But, at the same time, he doesn’t quite fancy the idea of being left alone here. It isn’t like he can just </span>
  <em>
    <span>say</span>
  </em>
  <span> that out loud. Either luckily or unluckily, Harry doesn’t seem to notice his hesitance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, m’only gonna be a few minutes. Turn on the TV, take a shower, relax for a bit,” Harry tosses him the remote off of the couch, boots clicking as he resumes his walk to the door. “I’ll bring us back some food from town, alright?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, alright,” Louis hums. He fills up a glass of water from the sink and takes it into the living room, sitting down just as Harry’s about to shut the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You call me if you need me. They said my number’s already in your phone,” he says, and then, more seriously, “And do not, under </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> circumstances, answer this door. You got that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got it,” Louis quips, eyes fixed on the television. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, then. I’ll be back soon.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door shuts behind him and Louis’ heart beats quicker when he hears Harry turn the lock shut with his key, even though he knows what he’s doing, knows that it’s just Harry leaving and not someone trying to get in. Still, it takes him a good fifteen minutes or so to calm himself and stop frantically glancing over his shoulder to the empty kitchen over and over again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When his breathing finally does even out, he gets bored. Harry offered him the television but it’s only got a few channels, the satellite on top of the slanted roof making the screen glitch and the volume go out every few seconds. Louis considers turning it off, but he doesn’t much want to be left alone with his thoughts at the moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he’s more free than he’s been in years and just as stuck, barricaded by his own doubts and fears. He doesn’t even really want to step foot outside again just yet, not without Harry for some kind of protection. In the rush of cameras and fancy after parties and high-rise penthouses, Louis never had much time to think. Here, it’s all he can seem to do. He hasn’t decided if he likes that yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is nice to have some time to relax, he reckons, but his brain just won’t turn off. He’s having trouble coming down from the high of the way he used to live where everything - and every</span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> - had been at his fingertips. Notoriously awful at being by himself, Louis always had someone around to distract him from his own thoughts. Up until this point he hadn’t really understood just how much he’d allowed himself to give into those urges without fear that he’d not be able to access those things, like right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, he’s got Harry. Just Harry. Well, the animals too, he supposes. Louis wishes he had some more lively company but he guesses there isn’t any use in wishing right now. He’ll get what he’s already got and that’s the way it’s going to be until they get all of this mess sorted out and he can go back to LA. For now, he’s just going to have to deal with it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He zones out staring at the static on the television screen until Harry gets back, stuck inside of his thoughts. The sound of the door opening sends him flying up before he can rationalize what it is, dropping the remote to the ground as he stands and positions himself behind the couch. With wide eyes and his heart pounding in his chest, Louis watches Harry slip through the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I’m - Louis?” Harry stops in the doorway, setting down the bags. “Is everything alright?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah,” Louis breathes. He nods once, licking over his dry lips. “I’m fine. Just - you know, standing here,” he mumbles, tracing a pattern on the back of the sofa to avoid Harry seeing his flush. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Harry drawls. He checks that the door is locked back before he picks up the bags and heads into the kitchen, disappearing from Louis’ view. “M’gonna make our lunch, it should be ready in just a minute,” he calls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds good,” Louis answers quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Outside, the sun is still out and vibrantly bright as it shines in through the front window. Louis admires it for a second to calm his breathing again, but then the shutter bangs against the glass from the breeze and he beelines into the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry raises a brow, flipping the stove on. “You sure you’re okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” Louis snaps. “Just hungry. What are we having?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Veggie dinner. Got some potatoes, some pork chop, some okra. There’s stuff for a salad in the fridge and some fresh lemonade in there too. I had to go out today for somethin’ else but I figured next time you could help me make a list of things you like t’eat.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding absently at his suggestion, Louis leans forward slightly to get a better look at the boiling water. “Okra?” He asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chuckling lightly, Harry nods. “Guessin’ you’ve never had it before? It’s not the four course meal you’re probably used to but - don’t worry, s’good. Healthy</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t look very good,” he mutters, eyeing the green insides before they’re steamed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry smiles, “Don’t knock it ‘till you try it,” he says, keeping his eyes on the food. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t seem like Louis’ going to be able to talk his way out of this one. He sighs and moves back again, annoyed with Harry’s presence but too nervous to leave the room. He lifts himself up to sit on the edge of the counter, swinging his ankles back and forth just as the smell of the freshly cooked meat begins to fill the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, the room seems to become less tense. Somewhere between Harry’s poorly times jokes and tidbits about the food, Louis finds his spine relaxing and his shoulders dipping inward, not quite as anxious as he had been before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which isn’t to say that it’s completely gone, because they definitely still don’t talk much over the meal. Louis eats quietly and doesn’t give Harry the satisfaction of knowing that the okra was </span>
  <em>
    <span>delicious</span>
  </em>
  <span>, although he’s pretty sure he figures it out when it’s all gone in the first few minutes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So it’s stilted again but not uncomfortable, and that’s definitely something Louis can work with. He thinks. He doesn’t glance up to see the grin on Harry’s face when he goes back to the kitchen for seconds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>+</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bacon and eggs sound alright?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Harry drawls, “What about some fruit and toast?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t sound good.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pancakes, then?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope, too sweet.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis’ second morning in the house doesn’t go much better than the first. He’d fallen asleep on the sofa once again while Harry watched television, waking up with a crick in his neck and an ache in his lower back from the awkward position. His eyes had flickered open as soon as he heard Harry moving around in the kitchen, pulling the throw blanket around his shoulders and letting it drag the ground as he went to find him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you tell me what sounds good to you, then, Louis,” Harry sighs, turning around to lean his hip against the counter and catch Louis’ eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brows dipping inward, Louis’ shoulders sag. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why aren’t you yelling at me?” he asks, “I’m being unreasonable and annoying.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because they told me not to piss ya’ off,” Harry relents easily, raising a thick brow. “Would you </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> me to yell at you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not particularly, no,” Louis sighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s just used to it, is all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry shrugs like he doesn’t know what else to offer him, brow still raised to meet the bottom of his hat. He shuts the open cabinets with a thud and walks toward the dining room, leaving Louis leaning up against the counter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve gotta work outside today. You’re welcome to come if you want.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis’ sure the question is forced as Harry swallows down the remainder of his breakfast as he passes back by the dining table, wiping the back of his mouth with his napkin and heading to put the empty plate in the sink. And for a moment Louis opens his mouth to say no, but then he stops. He’s curious just how far Harry’s willing to go for the money before he cracks, and this would be the perfect opportunity. The sooner Louis breaks him, the sooner his team will see that this was an awful idea in the first place and maybe he’ll get to go back to something familiar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, let me just get dressed,” he tells Harry, heading for the stairs.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you’ll be fine in that,” he says. “S’just the barn. No need for anything fancy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Glancing down at his pajamas, Louis frowns. This is acceptable outside of the house to him? If there happened to be any cameras around he’d be on the cover of every tabloid in the area. But he supposes that’s still the entire point - there are no cameras out here. Just him, Harry, and all of the animals. Despite the fact that there’s quite a few of them, it sounds incredibly lonely inside of his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay then,” he sighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sliding on his shoes that’d been left next to the door, he watches the heels of Harry’s boots trudge through the grass in front of him, yanking the door shut and hurrying to catch up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You come out here every morning?” Louis hisses, pulling his thin top tighter around his body and eyeing the thick jacket on Harry’s shoulders enviously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure do,” Harry says, unlatching the lock on the front of the barn door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once it’s undone, the wooden panel slides sideways to reveal the interior in all of its faded, dirty glory. It’s definitely a </span>
  <em>
    <span>barn</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Louis muses. It’s got hay stacked halfway up the side on the far wall, the floor littered with excess that’s fallen off and been scattered by Harry’s boots and the animals. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been toeing gingerly around the mysterious piles and stains on the ground but his head snaps upward when the animals begin to make noise, riling up as Harry walks past their stalls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Lady,” Harry coos, petting one of the horse’s snouts gently. He makes his way down the row, greeting each of them and filling their trophs with food until he reaches the last stall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Louis peeks around to see where he is, he can make out a cow on the floor of the barn, curled up as best as it can, blankets and some water bowls stationed where it can reach them easily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How ya doin’, Bes?” Harry murmurs, carefully stepping into the enclosure to kneel down next to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis doesn’t know much about cows, about any kind of farm animal for that matter, but he thinks that cows are usually supposed to be outside. He eyes the goats roaming the field out the doors before he shakes his head, stepping closer to where Harry’s petting down the cow’s side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go on,” Harry beckons him, “She doesn’t bite.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis grumbles but approaches her nonetheless, the cow’s head reaching much taller than his own. He glances up toward her eyes at the same time she bends down. He thinks she’s going to nuzzle him, maybe try to play like in the movies he’s seen, but she doesn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, she rears her neck back up again before sneezing harshly, getting thick snot all over the front of his shirt and the top of his jeans. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry chokes around a laugh, trying to play it off when Louis glares at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got to get rid of it,” Louis seethes, scrubbing desperately at his stained shirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My land, my rules, yeah?” Harry appraises him cockily, defensively, “I know it’s a change but this ain’t the city anymore. You'll have to get used to this sorta thing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rolling his eyes silently, Louis tries to keep from saying anything else. The drying snot on his shirt has left him more exasperated than clever for the moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And she ain’t an </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘it’</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Harry bites as an afterthought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s her name, then?” Louis sighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that he actually cares, except that he’ll be able to curse her out easier inside of his head if he has a name. She tilts her head at Louis curiously, as if she </span>
  <em>
    <span>hasn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> just ruined one of the most expensive shirts he owns. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bessie.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously?” Louis snorts, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Bessie</span>
  </em>
  <span>? You couldn’t come up with something more original?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s eyes meet his, only halfway open and unimpressed as he glares. Huffing at the direct attention, Louis shifts uncomfortably and moves to the other side of the stall, making a point to side-step any more feces laying around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why’re you so protective of her, anyway,” Louis wonders, watching him run a cool rag over the side of her face, completely ignorant of Louis’ dilemma. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s pregnant,” Harry says, “Got two babies in there, possibly three. S’incredibly rare for her breed and it can cause all sorts’a health complications at her age.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis’ eyes drop to her full stomach, only just now noticing the extra weight. He scans his brain for the useless information but comes up empty handed - he’s never had to learn about cow pregnancies before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How many do they usually have?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though it’s most likely a stupid question to him, Harry doesn’t get any angrier. He straightens up and throws the rag in the bin, then catches Louis’ eye with a melancholic glance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One,” he sighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Harry moves around the stall comfortably, side-stepping Louis to refill her water and give her something to eat. “She’s supposed to be out there with the others but she’s too weak. M’scared if she doesn’t stay in here she'll get stuck in a storm or somethin’ like that and I won’t be able t’get to her.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis rolls his lips together and bounces once on his feet, unsure of how to respond. “That makes sense,” he hums. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s a good judge of character, this one,” Harry smiles, eyeing Louis’ ruined clothing and patting her on the side of her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fully trying to ignore him, Louis pulls out his phone from the back of his trousers and pulls up his email app. It doesn’t load past the opening logo. Pursing his lips, he pulls down several times to try to refresh it but it doesn’t move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know how you get anything done out here. There isn’t even any service,” Louis huffs, waving his phone around in the air for a few moments longer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He misses the smug smile pulling at the corners of Harry’s lips in his spinning, finally giving up after a few minutes and pocketing it again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I think the least you could do is try to help out around here,” Harry hums. “Might give you somethin’ to keep busy with.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Louis scoffs, eyeing his outfit again. “No thanks.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What,” Harry grins. “You got somethin’ better to do?” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Louis thinks. He could be doing a lot more productive things if he were back in Los Angeles. Maybe studying a new script, attending award shows or after parties and networking. He could check his </span>
  <em>
    <span>emails</span>
  </em>
  <span>, even. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But here, unfortunately, Harry’s right. There really doesn’t seem to be anything better to do. Sighing dramatically, Louis eyes Harry’s movements as he fills the rest of the food trophs and cleans up some of the mess, tossing some fresh hay into the stalls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he’s about to open his mouth to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span> anyway, maybe throw in a glare or a roll of his eyes, but Harry doesn’t bother waiting for his response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, bright and early.” He gathers up a rope and throws it over his shoulder, headed for the horses outside near the front drive. Just as he gets to the barn doors, he pauses, “Enjoy your last day off.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sarcastic tip of his hat, he disappears from Louis’ sight around the corner. Already feeling a headache blooming in his temples, he pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger and forces a steady exhale. Off to the side, Bessie snorts and tilts her head at him questioningly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope you’re happy with yourself,” he mutters stubbornly toward her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giving her one last hard glance, he stomps from the barn back to the house, headed immediately for the shower. If this is his last day off, he’s going to spend it doing absolutely nothing. Definitely not thinking about the grimy barn, the snotty animals, and the bits of dirt already crusted onto his formerly white shoes. Out of all the places he could’ve gone, Louis thinks, they really chose </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>+</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surprisingly, the couch has yet to leave a crick in Louis’ neck. He’s been sleeping on it for a good week now, the feathered cushions a perfect pallet for him to pass out each night to the tune of Harry’s old TV shows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The downside to it is exactly that - he can hear everything that Harry’s doing. And he wakes up much earlier than Louis does, fumbling around in the cabinets and making coffee, doors opening and closing as he moves through the house to get ready. Louis doesn’t have a crick in his back, but he does have a heavy ache in his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What time is it,” he grumbles loudly, groaning as he slaps a hand over his eyes when Harry slides the curtains open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You comin’ or not,” is all he says, pulling on his boots next to the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing, Louis moves his arm and blinks hazily at the ceiling until his vision focuses, swinging his legs over to stand up before he can talk himself out of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not,” he breathes. He doesn’t even bother to change clothes, dragging his feet over to the door to slip on his own tennis shoes. It isn’t as if he’s got anything better to do, he muses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great, we’ll eat when we get back.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When they get back</span>
  </em>
  <span> turns out to be much later than Louis’d thought. It’s two hours in the barn washing the animals and refilling food trophs, another taking some of them out of their pins for some fresh air. They head in for lunch around noon and eat nearly all of the groceries having skipped breakfast before Harry insists they go out again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No matter how much Louis whines, he ignores it and continues giving him small tasks to complete alongside him. Louis knows he’s being a brat and it’s the least he can do to help out sometimes but - he just doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that Harry ever gives him a chance to go back in. Louis hadn’t been aware he was committing to a full day’s work when he agreed to come out this morning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s sweating more than he feels like he ever has by the time the afternoon finally rolls around, some of the heat lessening with the clouds and the darkening sky. Louis thinks they might just be ready to head in when Harry leads them over closer to the front gate, a thick, knotted rope wrapped around part of the fence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gotta get these knots out and then we can go in,” he says, wiping sweat from his own brow with the back of his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Huffing but stepping forward nonetheless, Louis grabs onto one section of the rope and sets about using his fingernails to undo the knots. It’s not exciting work but it’s much easier than the things they’d done earlier so he tries to keep from complaining too much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sleeping in tomorrow,” Louis mutters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry chuckles. “Are you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he nods. “Tomorrow is Sunday. I refuse to be woken up at the crack of dawn again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First of all, that’s when the chickens wake up, so I </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be up unless you’d like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> as an alarm clock,” Harry grins, “And secondly, there’s a perfectly good bedroom upstairs if you want some peace and quiet.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis’ made it an entire week without being reprimanded for sleeping on the couch. Although this hadn’t been a direct hit, he still feels like he’s been called out. Up until now there’d been at least somewhat of an understanding between them, an unsaid acceptance that it was okay to do because Harry hadn’t complained. Louis’ hands slow on the rope, feeling called out and suddenly too vulnerable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” he says quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can feel it when Harry’s eyes snap over to him. “What? No, I didn’t mean anythin’ bad,” he amends hurriedly. “I don’t mind you sleepin’ downstairs at all, I just meant if you wanted somewhere you could be alone, get some more sleep…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s obvious he’s about to keep rambling but Louis’ mind is no longer on the subject. His attention shifts further, past the outline of Harry’s back toward the road where he can see someone walking. He stays very still for a moment, gulping when he realizes that the person isn’t just taking a walk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis sees the man’s hat first, silver detailing glinting in the light. It’s much more tacky and obnoxious than Harry’s is and Louis hates that that's the first thing he notices. His eyes are glued to the figure as it moves closer and closer to them, and then it becomes obvious that whoever it is is headed directly for the other side of the fence that runs parallel to the road. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though there’s a gate between them, the angle is much too vulnerable for his liking. He cuts off Harry’s rambling with a hand on his arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry,” he breathes, anxiously tugging at the arm of his flannel. There’s no time for them to get back inside without it looking suspicious, and if Louis goes on his own whoever this is will have a perfect description of what he looks like. He’s stuck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes turn away from Louis to glance at the incoming stranger, quickly turning back around and lowering his voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S’alright,” Harry whispers. “Get behind me, yeah? They won’t know who you are if you keep your head down.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis does so willingly for once, sliding up beside Harry so that he’s almost completely covered by his larger body, their arms and sides pressed together. He accepts the rope that Harry feeds into his hands, ignoring the way his fingers shake slightly as he fumbles with the tight knot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he hears Harry mumble under his breath a moment later, just as the sound of boots crunching fades into their ears. Not necessarily scared, but definitely something like annoyance. His body sags for a moment but he still angles himself accordingly before the stranger, or </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>-stranger, gets close enough to talk to them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry,” the man drawls thickly, sauntering up close to the other side of the fence. Louis’ glad he can’t get any closer. “Didn’t know you hired a new farmhand. Not even all that much to do around here, to be honest,” he chuckles slowly, glancing around the open, empty pasture. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry sniffs, looking down so much that the man can probably only see the top of his hat. Louis can see his knuckles turning white on the material of the rope, his careful untangling morphing into angry, unsatisfying pulls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’re you doin’ on my land, Jack?” he asks flatly, still using his body to shield Louis from his view. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hands shaking at the thought of being found out, Louis tries to focus on untangling the rope and not drawing attention to himself. Jack leans forward a bit to put his hands on the fence, squinting to get a better look. The fact that Harry seems to know who he is makes him feel a bit better, but Louis hadn’t quite realized just how scared he actually was at the possibility of someone finding him out here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just takin’ a stroll,” he smirks. Jack moves down a bit, further in front of Louis, and Harry automatically moves with him. “Y’know the competition is in a few weeks. You thinkin’ of participating?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s something in his tone that doesn’t sit well with Louis. It’s like Jack is taunting him about something. Before he can convince himself that it probably isn’t the best decision, Louis clears his throat, lowering his voice and faking a thick southern accent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What competition s’that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can feel Jack’s smirk when he answers him, and also the way Harry subtly angles his head down, his body going tense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, bull ridin’, of course,” he says. “Harry’s pops used to be the best in the biz -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cut it, Jack,” Harry bites. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, c’mon, Harry. Was just having some fun with ya,” he smiles fakely, Louis shivering at his crooked grin and condescending tone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s enough,” Harry mutters, finally getting the knot he’d been working on untied and letting it fall into the dirt in front of them with a thud. He grabs Louis’ arm and pulls the rope out of his hands too, steering him back toward the house and away from Jack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, well I’ll see you around,” Jack calls from behind them, “Was nice meetin’ you!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry grumbles all the way back up to the front door, pulling it open so hard that it rattles against the house as Harry pushes him inside. Louis’ about to throw a fit, to tell him that he’s got no right to manhandle him that way and make him apologize, but once he catches a glimpse of Harry’s face he seals his mouth shut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> talk to Jack, you hear me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t tell me what to do,” Louis argues weakly, eyeing the way Harry’s hands have curled into fists. Across from Louis he breathes in deeply through his nose, his eyes cloudy underneath the rim of his hat. He steps closer until Louis’ got his back against the wall, crowding him in with his intense gaze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I sure as hell can,” Harry growls. “My land, my rules, remember? And Jack has no business bein’ out here unless he has some kinda ulterior motive. You want to stay safe? You want to make sure no one finds you out here? You </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t talk to Jack</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now would be the perfect time for Louis to push him a bit, to make him regret taking the money. But something about it has Louis’ lips open with no sound coming out, stuttering breaths as he stares back up at Harry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that clear?” He asks, eyes hooked on Louis’ mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Crystal,” Louis whispers hoarsely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It still takes a minute for him to back away, stuck in some sort of trance as he doesn’t even blink for a few moments. Louis can’t bring himself to do much else but stand there, trying to work out something from Harry’s eyes about why he’d gotten so worked up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Harry relents finally, his chest rising and falling before he leans back out of Louis’ space again, taking his hat off to run his fingers through his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the first time Louis’ seen him actually stressed about something, and for a brief moment he wonders if maybe he’d judged him too quickly. Maybe Harry’s got problems just like his own and maybe he’s not just some cowboy with nothing to worry about save for his best boots getting muddy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit,” Harry curses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis wanders into the living room after him, settling into the sofa where he’ll probably fall asleep again later on tonight. “What’s the matter?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed the Andy Griffith rerun,” he mutters, a frown set on his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Or</span>
  </em>
  <span>, maybe Louis was right after all. He sighs and kicks his legs up onto the coffee table in front of him, letting Harry grumble about Jack and about missing his show until his eyes feel too heavy to keep open any longer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>+</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis wakes up in the middle of the night to frantic scrambling noises, sitting up straight on the sofa. It certainly isn’t the first time he’s woken up like that but it doesn’t make it any more pleasant, his heart catapulting high into his throat as he struggles to familiarize himself with his surroundings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s on the couch still where he’d fallen asleep hours before, sweaty hands grabbing fistfuls of the material covering his legs. There’s a subtle trembling in his arms and his neck is tense when he glances slowly around the room for the source of the noise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Louis hears, the light from the kitchen barely visible from around the corner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he’s able to attribute the tone to Harry, he throws his legs over the side of the couch and stands, crossing his arms protectively over his chest as he tiptoes into the other room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry looks crazy, digging through his drawers and cabinets, leaving them open around the kitchen as he clangs together pots and pans and silverware, obviously looking for something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” Louis rasps, his voice still rough from sleep. When he glances up at the clock above the stove, it says</span>
  <em>
    <span> 3:30</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Louis,” he breathes, momentarily getting distracted. He shakes his head quickly and runs a hand down his face, returning to rifling through the drawers. “I’ve gotta - I think Bessie’s having her babies. I was supposed to give her this shot of epinephrine from the vet but I can’t - I can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>find</span>
  </em>
  <span> it,” he grits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He darts across the room suddenly to the other side, checking above the refrigerator through the cleaning supplies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does it look like?” Louis asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Harry asks loudly, clearly preoccupied, “It’s just like - it’s a syringe. Just a clear syringe. S’got, like, an information packet with it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sliding forward on his socked feet, Louis starts looking in the nearest drawer, sorting through a few papers and pens. When he comes up empty, he rubs some more sleep from his eyes and scoots over to the next one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a few minutes but his hand skims over another stack of papers that feels misshapen, pausing to check underneath them. Lifting the edge, he can see the bottom of what looks to be a large syringe and the packet Harry’d been talking about. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls them out in a hurry and taps him on the back, stuttering when Harry spins around with his eyes still wide and worried. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, my God,” he says, grabbing them from Louis’ hands. “Thank you, thank you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry stumbles over his own feet on his way to the front door, fumbling to grab the key to the barn while Louis slips on his shoes. For once he feels like the calm one, sucking in a slow breath through his nose while he watches Harry’s hands shake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry,” he calls. He waits until he stops and catches his eye to continue. “It’s gonna be alright.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>While Louis doesn’t actually know that for certain, it feels good to be able to provide some comfort somehow. The words alone seem to help even just a little, Harry’s shoulders sagging the slightest bit as he exhales with a small nod. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slower now, he opens the door and lets Louis slide past him before he shuts it again. He still walks quickly to the barn though, and Louis doesn’t blame him. Outside, he can hear Bessie mooing even from meters away, signaling that something is wrong. Louis wonders if she wasn’t supposed to have them so soon, judging by how frantic Harry is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s just beginning to rain as they make it to the front door but they don’t spare a thought for a missing umbrella, the keys clanging loudly as Harry struggles to get it in the lock. As soon as he slides the door open and flips on the inside lights, he springs into action. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quick, help me move her onto ‘er side,” Harry rushes, already halfway to the large, moaning cow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite having no idea what to do, Louis follows a step behind him and tries to copy his actions. Together, they manage to maneuver Bessie onto one side so that they can help her more easily, her body heavy and unwilling to cooperate much with them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now what?” Louis breathes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now we deliver the calves,” Harry says, slinging a dirty rag over his shoulder and moving to kneel down near her feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis scrambles out of his way, his heart beating nervously in his chest. He feels useless, but he knows he’d be no help if he tried to do anything else. Gnawing on his lip, he waits for any sort of direction from Harry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s hand shakes as he lifts it to pet at her large hip, a gesture of comfort that Louis finds momentarily breathtaking. Though she is a completely different species, she relaxes for a few seconds under his familiar touch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It sends Louis into a spiral. He wonders what that would be like - to be so accustomed to someone that a single touch from them would be enough to ease any worry. Louis’ been alone for so long that he hadn’t been sure things like that were even possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not the time</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he reminds himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Move up to her head, will you?” Harry directs him frantically, “They’re almost here. I need you to keep her calm, yeah? She’s nervous.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Falling to his knees without care for his expensive trousers, Louis scoots until he can lift her head into his lap, her long eyelashes moving up and down as she blinks at him curiously. He rubs the top of her head, wincing when she huffs and begins to make strangled noises. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S’okay,” Louis whispers to her, “You’re alright, Bes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis spares a glance back down to Harry, his eyes wide but determined. Immediately he’s struck with great admiration for him. Had they swapped places, Louis’ would be panicking so much he wouldn’t know what to do. Though Harry is obviously nervous, he breathes in a steady pattern, in and out through his nose, and Louis tries to match the rhythm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Distract her, Louis,” Harry yells, giving him little time to prepare before she’s thrashing again in his hold, her big frame fighting to get away from the uncomfortable stretch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He keeps his eyes on Bessie’s as Harry manages to get the first one out safely, laying it on it’s side on one of the towels. Bessie groans and twists her head but Louis keeps a gentle hold of her, cradling as much as he can in his arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here’s another one,” Harry grunts, shifting forward to pull the legs out with a squelch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the rest of the tiny body is through, Harry places it gently next to its sibling. Louis can hear them moving around but he doesn’t turn to look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That should be all of them, right?” He asks Harry, “She’s done?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bessie cuts them off before he can answer, heaving one last noise of distress, echoing loudly in the stall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I - I think we’ve got another,” Harry gulps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face has drained of color now, a clear sign that he doesn’t think this is going to end well. Bessie is already much weaker now after birthing two. Louis isn’t sure if she’s going to make three unless her body and Harry do most of the work for her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Swallowing roughly himself, Louis presses a kiss to her white and black cheek and squeezes his eyes shut. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thinks, </span>
  <em>
    <span>let this be easy on her</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S’not - I can’t get her out,” Harry panics, “She’s not comin’ out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry doesn’t answer him. Louis pets over her eye one last time before kneeing down to where Harry’s crouched, hands slipping wetly off of the calf’s leg. Without considering anything else first, Louis slips in beside him and grabs over his larger hands, tugging as hard as he can. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Harry curses, wrapping an arm around him to get a better angle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a few minutes but they manage to wiggle the baby from Bessie without hurting it in the process. Harry pauses afterward, waiting to see how she does. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bessie doesn’t seem to have any more to give, luckily. She’s slumped over on her side while the calves wriggle around on their towels, flexing their little limbs. Louis exhales in relief, but Harry doesn’t seem to share his conclusion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slides out from behind Louis quickly, kneeling down next to her head again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bes?” he whispers, more emotion in his tone than Louis’ ever heard before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gives him a quiet huff and nudges up into his palm, but she’s lost a lot of her strength. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s alright?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She should be,” Harry nods. “We - I’ve gotta stay here tonight and watch her, make sure she stays alert until we get a doctor out. Gotta make sure the calves are clean, that they get fed. Bessie doesn’t like thunderstorms so I’ll have to cover her ears, probably,” he rambles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis stands on feeble legs, feeling like a baby calf himself as he wobbles unsurely over to Harry, the adrenaline still zipping through his veins. He bends to cradle her head again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’re you doin’?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go get what you need from the house, I’ll watch her while you’re gone.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Louis,” he starts, “I can’t ask you to -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll have to hurry,” Louis cuts him off. “The storm’s about to get bad again. The babies need fresh towels and we need food and cleaning supplies. I’ll watch her.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry looks exhausted as he worries over the request, stuttering unsurely. In the end, he nods once and stands, jogging back toward the house in the light rain. When he’s gone, Louis runs his thumb over Bessie’s head and talks to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did it, Bes,” he cheers quietly, “those are your babies over there, see? Just gotta stay awake for us now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t seem to understand him but he continues to murmur to her softly, petting down the side of her face and over her heated skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis’ never witnessed anything like that before. In some ways he’s glad he had - almost like he got to play a part in the circle of life somehow, to have an impact on such a natural process. He’s just a small part of it that probably wouldn’t have mattered much had he not been here, but he can’t help the smile he gives when Bessie nudges up into his palm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Being in LA, he never would have gotten to witness something like this. He wonders how many of his friends can say they’ve helped a cow give birth, wonders how many have ventured out of their safe little artificial bubbles at all. Louis feels a sense of pride bubble up inside of him, both for him </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> for Bessie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The babies are still moving about and mewling softly when Harry jogs back into the barn, supplies balanced in his hold. Several more towels are laid down first and he hands one to Louis to wipe off some of the dirt and grime, and then Harry begins to clean the babies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Called the vet again, they said they’ll try to get someone out as soon as possible but it may be morning before they can,” he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s okay,” Louis nods, fully aware he doesn’t know if that’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> okay. He hopes them watching over the babies and Bessie will be enough to keep them healthy until the morning. He doesn’t even have a watch to check. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry finishes up and throws the dirty rags and disinfectant supplies off to the side, wiping his own hands on a clean towel before sliding down the wall next to Louis. He runs his thumb back and forth over the other side of Bessie’s face, finally seeming to calm some. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your trousers are ruined,” Harry tells him, glancing pointedly at the mud staining the material from his thighs to his ankles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis shrugs, “S’fine.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his answer, Harry seems to relax even more, like it’d been some kind of a test. Honestly, Louis’ just glad they’re all alright. He can buy more of the trousers later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Louis,” he says, “I couldn't have done that without you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, I’m glad she’s okay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe she did it,” Harry laughs wetly, hand flying to knuckle at his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s very strong,” Louis whispers. </span>
</p><p><span>And Louis means that literally, that she’s done incredibly well delivering her babies and she’s physically strong, but he also means it in other ways. He’s probably sleep deprived and delirious at this point but he feels like it could be a metaphor for themselves too - he and Harry. If either of them hadn’t been here there’s no way it would’ve turned out alright. On some levels Louis may even consider it as some kind of cosmic occurrence, like they were put here to witness - to </span><em><span>take</span></em> <em><span>part</span></em><span> in something good. Some pocket of light in both of their exceptionally different but still perpetually dull lives. </span></p><p>
  <span>He glances back over to Harry who’s wiping his eye with the back of his hand, sniffing onc and coughing lightly to cover up the way his voice has gone thick. Louis thinks he understands how he feels. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Harry agrees quietly, barely nudging their thighs together against the wall just as Bessie begins to snore. “She’s strong.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>+</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis wakes up to bright sunlight on his face, the storm from the night before long gone. Voices linger and echo in the barn, swirling around as Louis tries to find where they’re coming from. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s amazing, really,” Louis hears, “This is an incredibly rare case. It’s a wonder she’s still alive. You were outstanding, Harry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, but there was no way I could’a done it by myself. If I hadn’t had help, I don’t think we’d have been as lucky.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s southern accent makes his eyes flutter open, wincing at the sharp pain in his back. He’s still against the wall where he fell asleep last night, a fleece blanket tucked tightly around him up to his nose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis isn’t sure if Harry did that to hide him from the sudden crowd or if he hadn’t wanted him to be cold, but he appreciates the sentiment either way. He’s stiff and still slightly uncomfortable, but at least he’s warm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry waves goodbye to the group of people in the breezeway before turning back toward the stall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” he crouches in front of Louis, offering him a water bottle, “You feelin’ alright?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Louis coughs. “Thanks.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He downs half of the bottle to soothe his scratchy throat from sleeping outside, twisting until his muscles crack at the same time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bessie’s doing great. The babies are with her in the next stall over. All healthy. There’s gonna be a story in the paper.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On some levels he’d already known they’d be okay but Louis heaves a grateful sigh at his words, blinking away light, unexpected tears on his lash line. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s great, Harry. You did it,” he smiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>We</span>
  </em>
  <span> did it,” Harry corrects softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like some sort of cosmic shift, Louis glances over at Harry to find him already looking. He smiles back, grin widening the longer he holds his eye, and relaxes back against the wall despite his aching muscles. Something feels like it’s being lifted off of his chest and Louis inhales deeply, and then, for the first time in a long time, he exhales. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>+</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, the whole thing seems to make them closer. Louis isn’t quite sure how helping a cow give birth necessarily warrants blooming companionship but he’s willing to overlook it for the time being. Oddly enough, it’s been - </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It turns out it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> possible to have some fun around here, at least when he isn’t complaining about something. Louis’ caught on to the clever anecdotes that Harry’s too seasoned at this point to let him in on, like what shoes to wear for which occasion, the places to sidestep when they’re walking the grounds. He even knows which animals to steer clear from now versus which ones like to eat straight out of the palm of his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, though, it doesn’t mean he’s a completely changed man. Louis hates the allergies he gets when he’s outside for too long, hates the ache in his arm from swatting at mosquitoes all day. Oh, and he’d been right about his hair - all it takes is a few minutes of the morning air before any sort of style is overpowered by frizzy, tacky stiffness, no matter what he tries to use to tame it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Today, it’s raining. Harry says it does that a lot here but Louis has yet to see anything like it since he moved in. In Socal he sees some light showers, but it’s nothing like it is here. Huddled underneath the rackety umbrella with Harry, he can smell the earth the harder it pelts down, and can see vaguely in the distance somewhere it looks like lightning might’ve just touched down. There aren’t any buildings around here to lessen the dramatics of it, and Louis feels suddenly very small as he gazes out at the storm in all of its glory, seemingly endless as the grey clouds roll on for miles and miles across the fields. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Almost there,” Harry huffs, his body curled down awkwardly to keep them both adequately covered with the umbrella. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’ve got to finish some planting before lunchtime, but then all of their work outside will be finished. The storm is supposed to go on until the afternoon anyway, so Louis doesn’t mind getting it out of the way. He’s in a surprisingly good mood after visiting the babies in the barn this morning, watching them stand on wobbly legs and blink their long eyelashes at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The greenhouse seems ages away but they make it out there fairly quickly, jogging in step with each other through the field. Harry reaches forward to pull open the door and let him in first, backing in after Louis to shake off the umbrella before he closes it and sets it inside of the small building with them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t believe it’s already raining again,” he mutters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love the rain,” Louis tells him. And it’s true - he has always loved the rain for some reason. It used to feel like some sort of universal reset, or like the world was trying to tell him that it recognized his struggles somehow. While his friends had always hated that it ruined their busy schedules, Louis often sat by his window in his flat, watching for the lightning and counting down the seconds until the thunder that was certain to follow. “Do you not like it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry avoids the question, coming to stand beside him at the gardening area he’s got set up. The planter reaches all the way from one side of the enclosure to the other, but he and Harry don’t separate much so that Louis can hear him over the weather. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hands Louis several bags of the seeds they’re planting from the small closet off to the side, setting all of them out for easy access. While he’s curious, Louis doesn’t want to push so he sets about copying Harry’s movements, digging through the soil to find a good spot for the seeds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My ex was a gardener. He hated when it rained.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Usually when Harry speaks there’s a smooth ease to his words, slipping from his lips without much effort and meeting Louis’ ears like butter. His sentences flow endlessly, soft around the edges. Now, there’s an edge. He speaks harshly and keeps his eyes on the dirt below. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis’ so busy paying attention to his voice that he nearly misses what he’s just said - Harry’s ex was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>guy</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They may have more in common that Louis’d thought. He tries to mask most of his surprise, fingers stuttering on the flower stems as he pulls some of the dead ones. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How could you be a gardener and hate rain? That’s how things grow,” he says slowly, carefully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chuckling beside him, Harry’s lips curve up. “That’s what I always said,” he notes. “Missed the red flags, I s’pose.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis watches his expert fingers sift through the soil, burying the new seeds and pulling out the older, dried dirt and leaves mixed in with it. He can’t wait to see the new plants, a colorful mix of yellows and pinks and greens. Several times he’s tried to keep a few house plants but he’s never really home enough to take care of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of crazy exes as well,” Harry prompts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back in LA, Louis was always good at knowing when people were flirting with him. Here he isn’t as certain, left wondering if Harry’s question was genuine or if he’s subtly asking if he’s gay. Or, even more than that, if he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>single</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Either way, Louis doesn’t necessarily feel all that much like discussing his lack of a love life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guys don’t typically stick around for too long in the business I’m in,” he says quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only reaction he gets is Harry’s hand faltering a bit when he reaches for some more fertilizer, clearing his throat and keeping his face neutral. It must come as a bit of a shock for him as well, since Louis isn’t out to his fans yet. He doesn’t even actually know why he’s told Harry, but it’s too late to take it back now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it difficult to - y’know,” Harry makes an inappropriate hand gesture and Louis diverts his eyes so Harry won’t see his blush. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, sometimes,” he nods, coughing lightly to clear the awkward air. “And you never know who’s going to run to the press afterward and spill everything so you’ve got to plan all of it out beforehand. Contracts, NDA’s and all that. Nothing’s ever spontaneous.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pulling a few weeds of his own, Louis puts them to the side in the trash bag and reaches for a few more of the pink flower seeds, sprinkling them throughout the soil he’d raked with his fingers and then covering them up again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It shouldn’t matter,” Harry shrugs. “You’re Louis Tomlinson. You should be able to get with whoever you want without having to worry about it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Louis thinks that’s supposed to be some sort of distorted compliment, but it doesn’t come across that way. The way Harry says his name makes him uncomfortable, sounding too big for his mouth, too proper for his casual drawl. It makes his skin crawl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As insensitive as Harry’s statement had been, Louis isn’t angry. He sort of wishes </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> still had that mentality of celebrities, as someone on the outside looking in instead of the vivid memories he’s got from being too caught up in the inner workings. It’s a world of sacrifices he wouldn’t wish on anyone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well,” Louis mutters, gripping the stems a bit tighter in his fist. He never finishes his thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though Louis isn’t upset, they don’t talk much for the remainder of the time they’re outside. Louis watches the rain as it pelts down lightly against the side of the greenhouse, eyes going blurry the longer he does. Eventually, when all of the seeds are planted and the remainder of the fertilizer is used up, they venture back to the house for a late lunch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They reach the back porch, still huddled underneath the umbrella, when Louis stops. Harry falters for a moment, falling back a few steps to keep him covered properly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’re you doin’?” He asks. “You comin’ in?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis nods. “You go ahead. I’ll be in in a minute.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure?” Harry hesitates, adjusting his grip on the handle. “I’ll leave this with you-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raising his brows, Harry shrugs at him before he resumes his light jog to the back door. He leaves Louis standing in the tall grass in his nice clothes, rain pelting down from all angles as the squelches of Harry’s boots get quieter and quieter, drowned out with the noise. Louis shuts his eyes tightly and tilts his head up toward the sky. He hadn’t heard the door shut so either Harry’s left it open for him or he’s just standing there watching, but Louis doesn’t even care if he is at this point. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This doesn’t feel like something he could’ve done back in LA. Doesn’t feel like anything he could do anywhere but </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>, really. </span>
</p><p><span>Louis’ spent years of his life fighting for his moment. A time to shine, to finally feel like he’s the main character in his storyline. Despite playing characters and memorizing countless scripts, he still hasn’t had that feeling. He’s felt lonely and dramatic and absolutely useless at times. Like he’s a fake or an imposter and he doesn’t deserve anything he’s built. After all, his career is quite literally based around being someone he </span><em><span>isn’t</span></em><span>. He’s had cameras shoved in his face countless times, and not once has he felt like he’s truly </span><em><span>made</span></em> <em><span>it</span></em><span>. </span></p><p>
  <span>And he doesn’t really feel like that right now either, if he’s honest. But, for the first time, he does feel like </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> the storyline. He can picture the shot in his head, a wide view of him standing in the middle of the empty field, soaked from head to toe as he contemplates his life choices. It’s cinematic elegance at its finest, and Louis wonders if he’ll ever get his happy ending to go along with it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling selfish and bad for himself at the same time, he wishes for a split second that he could just take everything away. That he could restart and that he’d never made any of the choices he made. Maybe then he would still be at home, his </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> home in Doncaster, surrounded by family and friends instead of phony managers and empty relationships. Louis could’ve had a life for himself, could live privately like Harry does without the constant feeling that everything will catch up with him eventually. If Louis could start over, he wouldn’t have to be so afraid because he never would’ve gotten into this situation in the first place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arms raising to wrap around himself, Louis’ eyes shoot open when he hears the wind chime on the back porch clang loudly. It’s a reminder that he can’t have any part of that daydream no matter how much he may want it, that he will continue to keep looking over his shoulder until the day when  - </span>
  <em>
    <span>if</span>
  </em>
  <span> this all gets sorted out. It doesn’t change how much he wishes he could have some kind of do-over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lets the rain wash over him until the moon sits high in the sky and hopes somehow the universe might offer him another chance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>+</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis’ happy he’s managed to find a way to live here somewhat comfortably now, but it comes with its own new set of pitfalls. The first exhibit - boredom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most days he’s fine just staying around the house, busying himself with flipping through channels and seeing how long he can sit through the old television shows that Harry likes with the patchy reception, reading old magazines he’d found on a bookshelf upstairs, and even heading outside to see the animals for a bit. He helps Harry with the chores and cooking, partially worried about being annoying but not enough to actually stop following him around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The issue arises when Harry </span>
  <em>
    <span>leaves</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Which is quite a lot, actually. He visits the elderly woman down the street who’s husband passed away some years ago now, bringing her a home cooked meal and staying to chat for a bit before he excuses himself back home. He goes to the store in town sometimes too, nearly an hour drive there and back plus the time he spends shopping. When he’s not doing that, he’s going to the farmer’s market in the small downtown area, catching up on the latest gossip and bringing back fresh fruits and vegetables for their meals. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Louis is - he’s just </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He wishes he could say he’s learning how to be alone more but he isn’t. If anything, Harry’s absence is just making Louis wish he’d come back even faster. He’s also fully aware of the irony there, but most of the time he’s too stressed to deal with that part of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’ll admit that he’s come a long way since he first arrived, but he still gets nervous to be in the house by himself. With the blinds shut tightly and double checking all of the doors are locked, Louis sits himself on the sofa and wraps his legs around his knees until he hears the gravel crunch in the drive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The routine is getting old. He wants to </span>
  <em>
    <span>go</span>
  </em>
  <span>. To get out of the house even if they just drive around the backroads for a bit. He isn’t asking for much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perking up at the idea, Louis slowly grins. Surely Harry won’t be able to deny him </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They won’t even be seeing anyone, so it’d be perfectly safe. He jolts upward minutes later when he hears the tires of the truck pull up out front, standing and walking quickly to the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis races down the front steps to get to the car, yanking open the back door to carry in all of the groceries Harry brought home. He’s already halfway back to the kitchen by the time Harry catches up with him, an amused look on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’re you doing?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Helping you put up the groceries,” Louis says, emptying the contents of the bag into the fridge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hesitantly, Harry steps up behind him to put away his things as well. “And why is that?” he muses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because we’ve got important plans.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We do, do we?” Harry enunciates, reaching far above him to put something in the pantry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Louis nods. “You’re taking me on a drive.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that Harry does stop, a box of pasta in his hand that he points seriously at Louis. “You know we can’t go anywhere -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We won’t get out of the car. It can be </span>
  <em>
    <span>anywhere</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he pushes. “Please, Harry?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The use of his name seems to send shockwaves through him, his gaze snapping to Louis’ like he’s just said something monumental. Louis watches the stages through his eyes while he thinks through it, moving the pasta box back and forth between his palms, his booted feet crossed at the ankles as he leans up against the counter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis musters up his best convincing face, glancing up at Harry from underneath his lashes. It’s never worked for him before, but he figures it's worth a shot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Harry sighs. “I guess that ain’t against any rules. But if anyone asks, we never left the property, yeah?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Louis hisses under his breath, spinning rapidly to finish putting up the produce and then slamming the refrigerator door shut, bolting back out to the truck. “Shotgun!” he calls over his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Locking the door back, Harry chuckles at his enthusiasm. “You’re the only passenger, but by all means,” he gestures, rounding his side of the car to open Louis’ door for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He even goes so far as to help him up into the cab when he struggles to swing a leg up onto the lift, taking Louis’ hand in his own, much larger one. Louis ignores the way his face suddenly burns hot and keeps his gaze forward as Harry shuts the door behind him and rounds back to his own side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The minute Harry turns the key Louis reaches forward to mess with the control for the radio, flipping through the channels. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh-uh,” Harry shakes his head, knocking Louis’ hand away and pressing the CD button instead. “If we’re goin’ on a drive, we’re listenin’ to </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> music.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Huffing, Louis tries his hardest to be angry about it but he can’t, not when he’s so excited to be leaving the house after a month or more of being stuck inside. The days just seem to blur together at this point and he’s become too lazy to keep count anymore. He can’t fight the smile off of his face as he glances out the rearview mirror, the house becoming smaller and smaller behind them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they pull out onto the road at the end of the drive, Harry rolls down both of their windows. It’s the kind of place that doesn’t really have a speed limit, only rolling hills and pastures for miles and miles of their view. Bringing his legs up onto the car seat, Louis sits up on his knees and leans out the window, shutting his eyes and letting one hand rest outside of the car, feeling the wind blow over him. When he opens them again, he catches Harry’s quiet grin in the mirror before he coughs and looks away again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thick country bass and the loud volume of Tim McGraw’s voice drowns out much of any opportunity for conversation, but Louis feels like it’s enough just to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>out</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Harry’s smile had told him all he needed to know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s paid some attention to where they are despite his best efforts, noting the street signs and the landmarks he can pin down in relation to the house. Just as they make a full circle and Louis sees the turn for the driveway again, Harry doesn’t even spare a glance at it. Instead he speeds up, rounding another corner up ahead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are we going?” He asks, pulling his head back in to glance over at Harry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With one hand resting outside of the truck and the other lazily on top of the steering wheel, Harry just gives him a sideways, toothy grin, shaking his head. “You’ll see when we get there.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Usually Louis hates surprises. He likes control because, really, he’s the only person he can truly trust. Every time someone tries to push him into something unexpected he gets nervous, his stomach dropping and his nausea returning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For some reason, this time it feels like something completely different fluttering around in his tummy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The truck begins to slow as they approach a hill, Harry switching the gears to glide up the side of it smoothly. Louis watches excitedly as they round the identical corners of it. Eventually they reach the top, pulling onto flat gravel once again as the sun seeps through the windshield, orange and red as it lowers further in the sky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though Louis knows it’s the same sky, this sunset is nothing like the ones he’d seen in LA. Here it’s unobstructed by buildings, raw and warm as it beats down on the hood of the car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re a little late for it,” Harry says. “We can come back another day a bit earlier and watch more of it if you want.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s perfect,” Louis whispers, careful not to disturb the moment as he leans forward onto the dash to get a better look at the small town below. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s right, they are a bit late and the moon is already visible off to the side, but Louis thinks it’s lovely. He starts to reach for his phone for a picture, then decides against it. For once, maybe he can just enjoy something in the moment instead of having every move documented. This is just for </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Or rather, </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Louis says softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s still distracted by the view that he doesn’t see it when Harry moves closer. Not until he looks over when there’s no response, Harry having lowered the radio volume so they could hear each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Louis glances over his shoulder he nearly jolts backward, but he holds himself still. Harry’s only a few inches away from him, both of their faces tinted pink from the heat despite the rapidly lowering temperature as the sun sets completely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you miss it?” Harry murmurs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Drawing his eyes away from Harry’s lips as he speaks, Louis swallows thickly and clears his throat, his brain scrambling to think through the question. “Do I miss what?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like, do you wish you could go back?” he says. “To L.A., I mean.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s definitely a loaded question. One that Louis appreciates him asking so vaguely without demanding answers, but one that would take a lot of explaining either way. On one hand he wishes he could </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>go back. On the other, he doesn’t really know anything else. Even if it isn’t totally true, he just feels like he fits there, with the paparazzi and busy schedules and parties and everything else he hates. To avoid getting into all of that, he shakes his head with a small shrug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pursing his lips, Harry nods. He removes his arm that’d been laid across the headrest behind Louis that he hadn’t even noticed, placing it back on the steering wheel and shifting away once more. Louis shivers when the air vent Harry’d been blocking hits his skin again, feeling goosebumps appear in its place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seems like a much shorter drive going home than it’d been getting up there, and the curves make his stomach swoop all over again. He subtly grips onto the side handle of the truck, watching as the city lights below them fade back into darkness, out of their view. The radio is low now since they hadn’t turned it up again, the dark cab of the truck feeling simultaneously more comfortable and stilted than it’d been earlier the same evening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for taking me up there,” Louis tries again. Harry pulls into the driveway with a wide turn, stopping to punch in the gate code and let them back in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Course,” Harry smiles like he’d done earlier, but this time it seems forced. Louis knows the feeling. “It was a good idea.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They don’t bother using any of the fresh ingredients to make dinner, an unexplainable tiredness settling between them. It’s cereal and cold milk and glasses of juice instead, settling in in front of the television for Harry’s obligatory reruns. Louis stays up until he can’t keep his eyes open any longer, sagging against the cushion of the sofa in a familiar pattern. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It feels like he’s dreaming when Harry takes all of their dishes to the kitchen and then returns, sitting back down in the warm spot he’d been in before. Louis’ already drifting away again when Harry pulls his head into his lap, runs a hand down the back of his head, and pulls the throw blanket around him to tuck underneath his chin. He falls asleep like that with his head situated on Harry’s thigh, his brain mysteriously void of any of his regular nighttime worries. He falls asleep feeling happy and only mildly confused, snuggling further into him with a hint of a smile on his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>+</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s gone again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It shouldn’t be a big deal, really. He’d woken Louis up this morning to tell him he was off to a monthly town hall meeting and that he’d bring them lunch when he got back. Still sleep hazy, Louis’d told him that was fine and promptly fell back asleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, now he’s wide awake. Though it’s broad daylight outside the windows and nothing was outside when he checked, Louis could swear he heard something hit the side of the house. It rang inside of his ears, paralyzing him with fear as he sat straight up on the sofa. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sits there for a full twenty minutes listening for anything else before he can get himself to move. When he does, it’s awkward and shaky, his limbs darting out cautiously as he tries to be completely silent. His stomach growls loudly and he curses, standing hesitantly to tiptoe into the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Each step feels like an earthquake, the old house creaking with every movement despite his efforts to keep silent. Louis gives up and rushes through the door. He figures it’s safer in there with the potential self-defense weapons than out in the open living room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His stomach growls once again and he sighs, opening the fridge to look for something small until Harry gets back. He hadn’t checked the time when he first woke up, so he isn’t sure how much longer he’ll be gone. Louis wishes he’d get back sooner than later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ‘Jack’ thing had really put things in perspective for him. Louis likes to blur the line between independent and dependent, to defy everyone’s wishes and do his own thing but also come running back to them when he finds out he wasn’t as accomplished as he thought he was. It’s the reason he doesn’t actually have any real friends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Harry hasn’t complained yet. And Jack coming up to talk to them had only proved that, how quickly he moved to cover him and keep him from view. If he was just doing it for the money he wouldn’t care if Louis was truly seen or not, not if the paycheck was a sure thing anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis hates needing people. It makes him feel weak and needy and codependent. In this particular case though, he doesn’t suppose he has much of a choice. And, now, he doesn’t suppose he minds all that much either. He’s got no honest idea what he would’ve done if someone approached him and he’d been alone. He shivers at the thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pulling a piece of bread from the container, he grabs the butter and jelly from the fridge and sets it all out to make some toast to hold him over until lunch. Just as he picks up the knife to spread it over the bread, the house phone starts ringing from the next room over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis freezes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s just the phone</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thinks, gripping the knife harder. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s just a phone call and it’ll stop in a minute</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The minute feels like ages, his back to the cabinet and his eyes stuck wide, glancing frantically at the door. Each ring is time wasted, time where someone could be sneaking in and he wouldn’t be able to hear it. His own phone is in the living room and doesn’t have wifi or much reception here so that isn’t any good either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still stuck in the same position, Louis breathes in and out until it rings for the last time, and then it’s silent again. The noises he could hear before - the ticking of the clock on the wall, the shutter out front swaying with the wind - all seem to have gone silent, overpowered by the ringing in his ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head, blinking harshly and turning back around to finish making his toast. He’s got to pull himself together. It may just be a bad day, but he’s a grown </span>
  <em>
    <span>adult</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It’s pathetic that he needs to be babysat and can’t be in a house alone for less than a couple of hours. Still, his wrist trembles when he goes to dip into the jar of jam. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except - there’s a scratching sound outside in the living room. Louis pauses again, listening for any more movement. There’s a distinct click and some more creaking floorboards, the sound of material shifting against something. Unmistakably, someone is out there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis’ heartbeat rabbits in his chest, clutching the knife with shaking hands. He points it at the doorway, stumbling backwards until his hip hits the kitchen cabinet behind him. The footsteps get louder, nearing the kitchen. He thinks he hears whistling but Louis can’t be sure if that’s his ears ringing or not. He brings his other hand up so that he’s holding the knife a bit more steadily, eyes focusing and unfocusing rapidly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s quiet for a moment. And then the door to the kitchen swings wide open and slams against the cabinet, Louis’ scream startling Harry who drops the bags of their lunch he’d been holding onto the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lou-?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything feels like it moves in slow motion as the knife clatters to the ground, Louis hitting the floor with it. With his back against the counters, he feels almost numb. He’d really thought that was it. He’s so happy that it was only Harry that he doesn’t know how to express it properly, hugging his knees to his chest with wide, unblinking eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blurrily, he sees the silver toe of Harry’s boots approach, but he doesn’t hear it. Doesn’t even realize Harry’s speaking to him until he sees him bend down and his mouth is moving, his forehead creased in concern. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Louis, hey,” Harry’s voice fades in and out, “Hey, you’re alright. Can you stand up for me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gripping onto Harry so hard that his fingernails burn, Louis lets himself be stood up straight and led into the living room, lowered onto the couch with a blanket draped around his shoulders. Harry moves to go back to the kitchen but Louis stops him, his arm shooting out quickly to grab his wrist before he can leave the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even after Harry sits back down next to him it takes a minute to get a hold of himself. Too long, probably, but he can’t help it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know we said you wouldn’t have to tell me anything about it and I’m real sorry to change it up on you,” Harry’s voice slips into his ears, soft and accommodating with a sharp edge, “but your </span>
  <em>
    <span>team</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t tell me too much. I’m only really supposed to make sure you aren’t seen, not to protect you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It makes Louis’ face pinch up, fully aware that Harry isn’t actually required to do anything for him. In fact, Louis wouldn’t blame him if he called right now and said he couldn’t do it anymore, that Louis was simply too annoying to handle. All of his little tics have surely been grating on his nerves, messing up his strict everyday routine with his anxiousness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>But</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Harry emphasizes, cutting off Louis’ train of thought, “In my book, that means keepin’ you safe, too. And I can’t be doin’ that if I’ve got no idea what’s going on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis relaxes a bit, lip caught between his teeth as he glances up at him. He’s still scared from earlier but he can’t shake the neediness now that Harry’s here, not when he’s blatantly asking to be let in on the situation. It’s getting much harder to keep everything bottled up inside like usual. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need everything, Louis. Just a little. Just enough to know how to keep you safe.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Meeting his eye again, Louis makes his decision. He’s so tired of acting like everything’s okay when it’s painfully obvious that it isn’t, tired of keeping a secret that Harry is inevitably woven into now unbeknownst to him. At this point, Louis figures he has a right to know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone’s following me,” he whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Harry says slowly, careful not to let much of anything betray his reaction. “Do you know who it is?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis shakes his head. “No. I’ve got no idea. They - they kept sending me these, like, letters and leaving me voicemails and stuff. They always somehow knew where I was and at first we just thought it was a fan, but then it started getting... </span>
  <em>
    <span>scary</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Louis’ lip wobbles. He’s never had to explain all of this before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re alright,” Harry puts a hand on his shoulder, rubbing at the knots underneath the skin. It sends warmth directly down his side, settling in his tummy and soothing just a fraction of the nerves that’d been coiled tight there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They know things about me that - that I haven’t told </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span>. So I told my manager and everyone just thought I was overreacting. Then,” Louis inhales sharply, memories assaulting his brain, “They were in my apartment. I wasn’t home but things had been moved and</span>
  <em>
    <span> no one</span>
  </em>
  <span> has my key. I found more notes around the flat and then they finally believed me. I thought that I would just move but they launched an investigation and said it’d be best if I left town completely for a bit while they got everything sorted out.” Louis bites the inside of his cheek too hard and winces, picking at the skin on his fingernail quietly. “And - and now I’m here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence that ensues isn’t tense necessarily, but Louis doesn’t dare glance up to see his face. He hadn’t planned on telling Harry anything, but after pointing a knife at him Louis feels like he owes somewhat of an explanation. Now at least maybe he’ll understand why he acts so weird, why he jumps at every noise and only sleeps soundly with Harry in the same room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s still really no reason to trust him and Louis’ still partially nervous that the house is bugged or something, but he can’t explain the urge to tell him. It’s felt for ages now like the information has just been sitting heavy on his chest, making him nauseous from holding it for too long. He’s been sworn to absolute secrecy, signed plenty of contracts that reiterated that a hundred different ways, but things feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>different</span>
  </em>
  <span> now. Louis no longer feels like the person he was when he arrived here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s deep voice startles him out of his blank stare at his own lap, Louis’ eyes darting upward to watch as Harry avoids </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> gaze this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My dad was the best bull rider around. Won every competition, every prize that he could. Mama and I used to love watchin’ him from the stands.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis wonders what this has to do with anything. Still, he turns more toward him and wraps his hands around his knees, listening intently as Harry fidgets next to him, eager for any kind of distraction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was amazing. He was kind and respectful and real popular with everyone around here. He was the perfect dad. He was here, everywhere, and then he just - wasn’t.” Harry gulps. “Mama and I told ‘im he shouldn’t be riding if he didn’t feel well. He’d been sick with a cold for a week already. Made his head all foggy and his vision blurry. But he went anyway, said it was the last one of the season and then he’d be done.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now Louis understands. This is Harry evening everything out, making Louis feel more comfortable by sharing his own kind of trauma. Louis thinks about stopping him, about saying that he doesn’t have to tell him any of this if he doesn’t want to, but it seems like Harry might feel the same way he had. Like after being lonely for so long he’s just as desperate as Louis had been to get it off of his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew something wasn’t right when he got out there. He was sweatin’, I could see it, and he was never nervous before those things. But he was this time, and his hands were shaking and he wasn’t walkin’ straight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reaching a hand out to rest lightly on Harry’s arm, Louis hesitates. He’s never been good at comforting people so he hopes Harry can sense his empathy without a verbal confirmation. Louis tightens his hold as he opens his mouth again, visibly more upset now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He only made it four seconds out the gate until he was on the ground. No one could get to him before the bull - before -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There isn’t even time to fill in the rest of the blanks because Harry’s choking on a dry sob, shaking his head frantically as his eyes begin to water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was trainin’ me before to ride too but after that happened I just couldn’t - I couldn’t -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis surges forward to hug him as best as he can, awkwardly trying to reach his hands around Harry’s broad shoulders as they shake. He doesn’t seem to notice or doesn’t mind, his own arms wrapping tightly around Louis’ waist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, Harry, you’re okay,” he says softly, bringing a hand up to the back of his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry sniffs and coughs once, pulling his face from Louis’ neck. “I’m sorry - this isn’t about me, I just felt like -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I - thank you, Harry. I’m glad you told me.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Really</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he says, trying for a small smile as he leans back in for a hug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Being vulnerable is another high spot on the list of things he hates, but it hadn’t felt as bad with Harry sharing his own story. And, even more than that, it only proves that he’s beginning to trust Louis as much as Louis already trusts him, although he probably shouldn’t. Harry’s just being paid to babysit him essentially, but Louis can’t help his wanting for something more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been so long since he’s even had a </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend</span>
  </em>
  <span>, someone to confide in. He’s been put on strict guidelines to keep to himself in every aspect of his life but here it all feels completely different. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Here, even though he’s got even more rules than when he left, he feels free. Private. Harry isn’t here to judge him like everyone else always was. Louis’ always wishing for something unexpected, and maybe this had been it. Maybe the break had been just what he needed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry leans in presumably for his neck again, but Louis seems to cut off his path as he tries to readjust his arms. His face shifts down at the same time Harry’s shifts upward, their lips just barely brushing for a moment before they both inhale sharply and meet each other’s eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s other things that Louis might’ve planned to say. He wanted to thank him again, to make it clear that his admission had made Louis feel exceptionally better about sharing his own story, that Harry’d made him feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but all of the words seem to die out on his tongue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stuttering, Louis licks over his lips and watches as Harry’s eyes drop down to see it happen, his gaze heavy in the dim lighting from the kitchen reaching into the living room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uhm,” Louis whispers, hands fisting in the back of Harry’s shirt subconsciously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s eyes flash back up to his at the sound of his voice, but he doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he breathes hot onto Louis’ lips and then he’s leaning forward and sealing them with his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything about it feels warm, feels </span>
  <em>
    <span>familiar</span>
  </em>
  <span> even though it shouldn’t, and Louis dips in even further for more. He adjusts himself more comfortably, tilting to follow his movements while he arches up into Harry’s mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand much larger than his own comes to rest on his cheek, spanning the entire side of his face and searing hot over his already heated skin. The fireplace sits cold and empty a few feet away, but Louis feels like he’s been dipped and bathed in thick summer heat. It licks over his body the same way that Harry’s tongue licks over his taste buds, spit collecting between their mouths as they chase each other back and forth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a split second Harry pulls away and Louis follows him, leaning forward into his chest as he goes. He thinks Harry might ask him if it’s alright or if he wants to stop, but Louis hopes he can already see how much he wants this. How much he hadn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>known</span>
  </em>
  <span> he wanted this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Harry never says a word. He holds eye contact as he continues stroking a finger over Louis’ cheekbone, his gaze moving from one eye to another and back again. They’re breathing all over each other and it should be too hot, uncomfortable and intimate in a way that Louis usually tries to avoid, but it seems the emotion from earlier had sparked something in them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry tilts his head to the side and leans in again and it feels like something they’ve done a thousand times already. This hadn’t been planned, hadn’t been something Harry signed a contract for. It isn’t artificial when he pulls him even closer with a hand around his waist, brushing hair back from his forehead without separating their lips. It’s like nothing he’s ever experienced before. Louis leans in further on an exhale, taking what he can get while Harry still wants to give it to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re wrapped up in each other for so long that neither of them manage to catch the sound of a car speeding down the front road outside, or the angry red of a blinking notification for a voicemail left on the answering machine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>+</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next day it rains so hard that each time they try to open the front door, the wind slams it noisily back shut again. Harry’s got an old radio he’s pulled out from the closet underneath the stairs, tuning it to the weather channel to hear about the storm. Apparently it’s nothing awful and Harry’d already prepared the barn for it the day before, but the reporter says there’s a good chance of some hail too, so they play it extra safe and skip it out on the outside chores for the day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m bored,” Louis says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s laying down on the sofa with his head hung upside down off of the side, his legs crossed at the ankles and laying across the back of the couch. Playing with his fingers that rest on his stomach is only so entertaining and his patience is dwindling thinner by the second. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can play a game,” Harry suggests, his face flipped when Louis glances over at him, the blood rushing to his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> any games?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Harry sighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis doesn’t bother with a response to that. The rain is hitting the window panes so hard that it feels like the house is shaking. But in some ways it’s still comforting, knowing that probably no one would be able to get in the house with the way it’s coming down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have any movies?” Louis asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but they’re in my truck. Had a movie night a while back at the city hall.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both glance toward the window at Harry’s truck parked in the drive, a jarring boom of thunder sounding at the same moment as if to warn them away from it. Louis shuts his eyes and lays an arm over his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you bring anything to do?” Harry tries again, “I can’t think of anythin’ else.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he huffs. Then he throws his arm off of his face and sits up so fast he gets whiplash, “Wait, yes I did!” he cheers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swings his legs completely around until they’re on the ground and jogs up the stairs in his pajama pants, rifling through his suitcase that still has yet to be fully unpacked. At the very bottom of his carry-on is his laptop and charger. They can’t watch any streaming services because of the wifi, but Louis remembers downloading some movies onto it a while back to watch on the plane rides. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Running back down the steps, he rushes over to the outlet next to the door and plugs in the charger, situating the computer on the floor in front of it. It only reaches the edge of the fluffy rug in front of the furniture, not quite long enough to sit on the table where they can see it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Help me move this,” Louis nods toward the coffee table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry raises a brow but moves over to lift one side of it nonetheless. “You know we can’t watch Netflix or any a’that, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Louis says, already struggling to keep his hold on his side of the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes more of his strength than he’d like to admit to get it finally moved over, but he still makes a show of dusting off his hands and putting them on his hips, nodding like he’d done any of the work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that out of the way he returns to the linen closet in the hallway, pulling out a heap of quilts and extra pillows from the shelves. He dumps all of it down in the middle of the floor and pulls the cushions from the sofa to sit up against, plopping down onto one side in front of the laptop and waiting for Harry to do the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis actively ignores the fact that he can feel the body heat when Harry does sit down, much closer to him than he expected. He clears his throat and leans forward to hide the way his face flushes slightly, typing his password into the computer and clicking on the media app. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are we watching?” Harry asks, glancing around him to look at the options as they load on the screen. As soon as they do, Louis immediately regrets having the idea.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first thing that pops up, inevitably, is </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fifty Shades of Grey</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Harry chokes on a laugh, settling underneath the covers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> watching that,” Louis mutters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It only seems to get worse from there. The rest of the titles pop up as they load but they aren’t any that he was thinking had been on there. No, they’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> movies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis doesn’t like to think of himself as arrogant. It’s just - he gets nervous sometimes when his movies come out, wondering how other people see him. So he downloads them and rewatches all of his scenes obsessively, panicking over every weird angle and, in his opinion, poorly delivered line. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of the movies he’d thought were on here have a small cloud beside them signaling that they aren’t downloaded yet (besides Fifty Shades of Grey, of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course</span>
  </em>
  <span>), and Louis curses his own perpetually bad luck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are those?” Harry points, his laughter faded out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Louis rushes. “I don’t have any movies.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tries to shut the lid but Harry doesn’t give up, reaching forward to open it again. He eyes the covers and Louis holds his breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are those - is that </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis sighs. “Yes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No way,” Harry breathes, looking utterly delighted. “We have to watch one.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shifting forward, he uses the mouse to click on one of the titles and Louis can feel his lip beginning to sweat. For some reason he doesn’t stop him right away. He doesn’t know why but he finds himself craving Harry’s approval, nervous to see what he thinks but not enough to stop it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t like modern shows,” he argues weakly, watching Harry already settle back into the pillows, ready to watch the movie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t usually,” he admits. “But you’re in this one.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And - Louis’ got no idea what </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> supposed to mean, but he snaps his mouth shut and leans back as well, wringing his hands together while the opening credits play. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This particular film he remembers shooting vividly. It’s one of his favorites he’s ever done because it’s the only character he’s ever played that feels somewhat realistic to himself, a man from a small town trying to make it big in Hollywood while he navigates a rocky love life and criticism from the media. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s an hour and a half long and Louis spends most of it stock-still, stealing sneaky glances at Harry’s reactions throughout the scenes. Each time Louis looks over he’s just as interested as he was the moment before, his brow furrowed as he watches the characters interact. Louis’ genuinely surprised - this is nothing like his black and white movies that he watches all the time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he doesn’t have the slightest complaint, his breath hitching when some big plot point is revealed, leaning forward when the characters are talking quietly. Harry seems genuinely caught up in it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Toward the climax there’s a scene where Louis’ character and the other main character finally realize their feelings for each other. He hadn’t felt any real chemistry with the girl when they’d been filming, but he has to admit he conveys it well on-screen when he watches it back. There’s a tense, emotion-filled monologue before Louis kisses her character and for the first time he doesn’t flinch during its delivery, Harry’s interest helping to ease some of his own insecurities with it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the credits begin to roll though, he bites his lip again. He moves forward from underneath the blanket to turn it off, hesitant to ask for any opinions. Eventually it’s been quiet for too long, and Louis glances back at him to see Harry’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Louis,” he says, his mouth open slightly as he shakes his head. “I had no idea you were such a good actor.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis scoffs too loudly, his head dipping down again to hide his blush. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean it - that was really, really good, Louis. You’re very talented.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallows dryly, shutting the computer lid again. “I - thanks. I’m, uhm, glad you liked it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Really</span>
  </em>
  <span> liked it. We should watch the others sometime,” Harry smiles softly, still not moving from his spot. He’s looking at Louis in some kind of awe, his expression refusing to shift even as Louis moves back up to sit next to him. Harry’s eyes don’t stray. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know about that,” he says quietly, pulling his sleeves down to cover his hands in his lap. When it’s been a few minutes longer and Harry still doesn’t look away, Louis clears his throat. “What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing, I just - I’ve seen you do some of those things in real life too sometimes. The acting things.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis’ breath catches in his throat, his fingers pausing where they’d been pulling at a loose thread. Harry always says weird, cryptic anecdotes like that but this is one that Louis understood, the implication of it hitting him harder than he thought it would. He hadn’t realized other people might see the parallels too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He comes up empty when he tries to think of some way to respond, mouth opening and closing under his gaze. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What is he supposed to do?</span>
  </em>
  <span> he wonders. Throw up his hands and say ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>you caught me</span>
  </em>
  <span>’? Admit that he’s just as fake as his characters? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He never gets the chance. Harry licks over his lips and then adjusts himself so they’re even closer, his brows dipping inward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you like living here?” He asks. “Like, is there anything you would change?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The question catches him off guard initially but Louis recovers, biting the inside of his cheek in careful thought. There are some things that aren’t ideal, but would he really want to change any of it? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I - I don’t think so,” Louis says, his body feeling hot and humid under all of the blankets and the weight of Harry’s close attention. “Maybe, uhm, maybe just let me know when you’re leaving and stuff like that? Like, when you know you won’t be here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can do that,” Harry nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis glances back down at his lap but Harry’s gaze remains firm. He’s confused about the sudden attention but he’s too nervous to call him out on it, unsure of what any of it means. Since he came here there’s always been this invisible barrier between them, Harry’s unwillingness to push for information and Louis’ inability to give it freely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he didn’t see any reason to. Now though, it feels like </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> is happening, even if Louis can’t put his finger on just what it is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t have to act. I want you to be happy here,” Harry says suddenly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The best way Louis can relate to what he feels right now is like being on set. It’s like when he’s filming and he’s studied the script meticulously, knows everything down to the facial expressions and unique character tics to emulate and portray. And then he gets out there and the pressure ramps up, lights and cameras aimed at him as they wait for his line. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time there is no script. Louis’ great at playing people that he isn’t. In fact, perhaps he’s so good at it that he’s forgotten how to truly be himself. He hates the knowing glint in Harry’s eye suggesting that he may have figured that out already. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am,” Louis says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, really, he doesn’t think he’s acting anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>+</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The following days are better. Not totally without his fears, but he’d talked to Harry a bit more and they decided on a schedule that he thinks will work better. As guilty as Louis feels for making him stay home more, he has to admit it’s working wonders for his nervousness, feeling much safer knowing he’s in the house with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis also knows he can be a bit much sometimes too though, so he’s trying to keep an appropriate distance for the situation. They usually eat breakfast together because Louis still sleeps on the couch and gets woken up by the coffee maker, then they go out to the barn for a few hours. In the afternoon, he tries to leave Harry alone for a bit, sitting in the next room over and reading or something to get out of his space. Then, later on when it begins to get dark, they make dinner together and sit in front of the television to watch Harry’s shows. It’s the closest thing to a true routine that Louis’ had in years, and it’s easing a lot of his frayed nerves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Today they’ve just gotten back inside after going out to the barn. Louis plops down into the living room chair in his usual spot, pulling out the book he’s been reading the past few days. Just as he begins to get back into it, Harry emerges again from the hallway, a different set of clothes on than just a moment ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” Louis asks slowly, narrowing his eyes at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m being spontaneous,” Harry grins. He steps forward and sets the book back down onto the side table, taking Louis’ hand to pull him up and lead him to the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis laughs brightly, recalling the last time he’d expressed to Harry that there was no spontaneity in LA. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m in pajamas,” he complains halfheartedly, pulling at the threaded top he’s got on. Usually he wears them around here anyway but since the kiss he’s been trying to make a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little</span>
  </em>
  <span> effort at least, even if nothing else has happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yet</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He’s optimistic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S’the beauty of being out here all alone,” Harry throws his arms out once they step outside, gesturing around them. “The animals don’t care too much about the latest fashion trends.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slapping him lightly on the shoulder as he passes, Louis skips down the front steps toward the barn. Chuckling, Harry catches up to him easily and hooks a finger into his belt loop on his trousers. He doesn’t ever manage to catch the blush that rises on Louis’ cheeks at the action. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry unlocks the barn door and slides it open, his arm held out dramatically for Louis to enter first. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Louis smiles, curtseying and walking inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon,” Harry puts a hand on his back, leading him over to the tall stacks of hay in the corner of the barn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t question it when they begin climbing, just follows Harry up and tries not to slip on the loose pieces when his allergies begin to act up. Eventually they get situated on top of the stacks, only a few meters away from the tall ceiling and directly under a skylight (and by that he means a decently sized hole in the roof) Louis hadn’t even known was there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they’re both settled it’s like they just seem to gravitate toward each other. SInce the kiss there’s been this tension between them, not bad necessarily, but definitely obvious. When they aren’t doing something else with the animals or the plants, it settles thick between them, unavoidable now that they’re so close again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re gorgeous,” Harry whispers, cradling his cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pausing, Louis stutters up at him. “No one - no one’s ever told me that before,” he says, matching Harry’s tone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis nods. He’s been called plenty of names, but never one so lovely as what Harry’s just uttered. It’s always been double-sided compliments that point out his insecurities, his body and his voice. He can tell there’s no intent behind Harry’s words other than simply to say them aloud, and Louis’ a bit struck by how genuine he seems. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S’a shame,” Harry tuts, “You’re a proper sweetheart.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He groans, burying his head in Harry’s chest to escape the direct attention. In every other aspect of his life he fights endlessly for all eyes to be on him, but Harry’s gaze feels like too much to take at once. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heat radiates off of his cheeks inside of their embrace, trying to act annoyed but still melting into it nonetheless. He bristles when he realizes how close his action has put them, and when he sits up again they’re much closer than they were before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“People usually, uhm, they usually say that I’m too loud. Or that I’m just a brat.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s not lying. Over the years he’s come to accept the term like a second name. And he hates it so much that it makes his head hurt, but he can’t escape it now. After so many times, it begins to stick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry frowns, but takes a moment to think. Louis appreciates that he doesn’t just immediately agree or disagree. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think you’re too loud,” he murmurs carefully. “And I don’t think you’re a brat either.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> you think, then?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling to himself, Harry shakes his head. “I think you know what you want. I think the papers come up with this image of you that ain’t the truth, no matter how hard your team pushes it. You appreciate the finer things in life but it doesn’t define you. I think you’re hard working and have goals,” Harry swallows. “Think you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>brave</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brave?” Louis’ eyes trail up, a spark of something hopeful inside of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You put yourself out there every day for millions of people to see, Louis. You have such a passion for what you do that it makes it worth it even if people don’t always like you at the end of the day. That’s very brave.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t feel very brave,” Louis mutters weakly, forcing a laugh as he avoids Harry’s intense gaze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just because things aren’t great right now doesn’t mean they won’t get better. Plus, you’re havin’ a good time here, yeah?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time when he laughs, it’s genuine. “Yeah, I am.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at me, Louis,” Harry says seriously, taking Louis’ chin in his hand. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> brave. I don’t know everything that’s going on and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But whatever it is, you’ll get through it, alright? And then everyone will see just how brave you really are.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis tries to smile at him in thanks but he only manages a wince before his lip begins to tremble. It’d been more than enough for Harry to call him gorgeous like he had earlier, but he’s managed to outdo himself now. It seems Louis’ own body is betraying him, unsure of how to handle such a compliment - the only genuine one he’s received in years. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Louis,” Harry says gently, reaching out to comfort him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M’fine,” Louis waves a hand at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of listening, Harry scoots over until their bodies are aligned, then extends an arm around his shoulders to pull him in close. Somehow, after Louis lets out an embarrassing sob, he ends up with his legs across Harry’s lap, a hand stroking softly through his hair. And it’s - Louis’ never felt better in his life, but he doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>deserve</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The entire time he’s been here he’s been a proud nuisance, ready to poke and prod at Harry until he snapped just like everyone else did. But Harry hasn’t snapped. If anything, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Louis</span>
  </em>
  <span> has, unprepared to handle any emotion aimed at him that isn’t negative. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels afflicted mostly, because it’s never been this obvious to him that he isn’t deserving of something. If he’d asked any magazine or any of his so-called friends in the industry, they wouldn’t hesitate to say that he’s insatiable in his search for empty validation. That he’d do anything for money and fame and praise. Right now, he would trade all of that in the blink of an eye to stay here, in this safe cocoon he’s stumbled upon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis supposes Harry might be right, maybe he isn’t really a brat after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once he’s managed to catch his breath, Harry pulls his face away from his chest to look at him properly. He offers Louis a muted grin as he cradles his cheeks, his thumbs rubbing over them to catch any excess liquid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Louis knows he looks horrendous. He’s seen himself after a good cry, standing blankly in the mirror with puffy, red skin and bloodshot eyes. But Harry still holds him tenderly, still looks at him without judgement. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What is it about emotion</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he wonders, sparing a glance down at Harry’s lips as they open again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baby blue,” Harry mutters to himself, still gazing deeply into Louis’ eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stutters at the sweetness of the nickname, jolting when he realizes Harry’s still referring to </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He’s never had a nickname before and certainly not one like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Subtly, Louis reaches down to pinch the outside of his thigh to make sure he isn’t dreaming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sting travels down his leg and he holds his breath as Harry leans in closer. He’d been hooked on Louis’ eyes before, but now his gaze travels from them to his lips and back again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis is experienced - he’s been with a lot of people in his life, knows how to show someone a good time when he wants to. However, throughout every hookup and every sad semblance of a relationship, he’s never been very good at kissing. He knows they’ve kissed once already but it’d been different, or it’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>felt</span>
  </em>
  <span> different at least. It’d been emotional and comforting and in the darkness and dead of night, not here when they’re both awake and alert and where it’s so easy for Harry to point out everything he’s doing wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kissing just seemed to get lost somewhere along the way in the past. He didn’t even think of it in the heat of the moment anymore, forced to focus mainly on just getting off in whatever time was allotted. Harry seems intent on it, though, and Louis’ own mouth waters at the thought of Harry’s lips on his again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside of his chest, his heart rabbits against his ribs with something completely different than the usual heavy weight of fear, and he wonders if Harry can hear it when he’s close enough that Louis can feel his breath on his chin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Louis,” he whispers, “This okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I - I just -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A deeply repressed memory swirls up behind his eyelids, a vivid picture of the first time he’d kissed a boy. He can still see the way his face contorted, the way the guy pushed him off with a snort of laughter. Louis remembers every word of distaste he’d expressed, and he remembers feeling inexplicably lonely after watching the door fall shut after his hasty exit. They’d been young, but his feelings had still been hurt. If Harry were to look at him the same way, Louis wouldn’t be able to live with himself, or </span>
  <em>
    <span>Harry</span>
  </em>
  <span>, anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry must feel him tense, pulling back to meet his eyes once again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t mean to push you,” he starts. “I should’ve asked you the other night, too -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Louis says loudly, clutching the front of his button up tight in his fist, “you didn’t push me. I want you to, I just - I might not be very good at it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, love,” Harry smiles again. “Don’t think you’ve got much to worry about there, you’re lovely.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as he’s about to deny it, Harry leans in close again, licking up the side of his neck until he meets his ear. He nibbles on it harshly until Louis’ whimpers, then leans back to talk against his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Been waiting to taste you properly since the first day you showed up,” he growls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The atmosphere shifts with his words, and he takes Louis’ lower lip between his own firmly. Louis scrambles to move with him, hands frozen on his shoulders but trying desperately to copy his technique. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kissing Harry doesn’t turn out to be all that different than the last time. He’s harsh but he holds Louis gently, manhandling him like precious cargo. It turns Louis’ brain to useless mush and he sags against Harry’s chest with a muted mewl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright?” Harry checks, licking over his already spit-soaked lip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah,” Louis nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leans back in eagerly toward his mouth, doing little to conceal his want. Now that he’s a bit used to the feeling, his hands slide up to Harry’s neck, running his fingers across the hair underneath his hat. It’d been the last time, but now it feels thicker somehow, </span>
  <em>
    <span>dirtier</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry groans, shifting when he tugs slightly. Louis reaches up and throws his hat off without a second thought to get a better angle. Long, thick curls fill the space in between his fingertips as he runs his hands through them, still somehow perfectly styled after hours of being matted down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Parting from him once again, Harry curses and mouths back down to his throat, his lips over Louis’ pulse as he swallows. Already Louis can tell there will be marks there tomorrow. He feels spontaneous and high on Harry’s lips, on some type of energy that’d always been missing before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Half of his mind screams to tell him off for the hickies he can already feel blooming underneath his skin, to say that he’s got a photoshoot in the morning or something, but then he remembers he doesn’t have anything of the sort. He grins into the top of Harry’s head, straining to get more of the foreign feeling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As great as it is, Harry doesn’t try for anything else. He stays completely above Louis’ waist while they kiss, respectful just like Louis thought he’d be. And, as strange as it is for him, Louis finds that he likes the idea of </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> kissing for once. There’s no pressure to offer up anything else, and Harry seems just as content to leave filthy, open-mouthed bruises on his collarbones as Louis is to accept them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry,” he murmurs weakly, giving one last gentle tug on his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baby blue,” he answers easily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry leaves his neck to kiss his lips deeply again, then kisses over each of his eyes and his forehead. Giggling, Louis bats at him and wriggles on his lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How on </span>
  <em>
    <span>earth</span>
  </em>
  <span> could you think you were bad at that,” Harry asks seriously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis sombers, shrugging, “Just - bad experience with it in the past, s’all.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They were an idiot,” Harry grumbles, licking over the seam of Louis’ lips, “Can’t get enough a’you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lips parting slightly for him, Louis lets Harry lick inside of his mouth until he’s breathless. Harry notices when he shifts again, patting the outside of his thigh with a pointed look toward the door so they don’t get ahead of themselves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S’getting late, we should walk back before it gets too dark,” he says, offering a hand to Louis to help him to his feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t let go once they turn to leave. Harry’s much larger hand covers his completely as they walk back to the house, swinging softly between their bodies. It feels light even though the weight of Harry’s hand is heavier than his own, the harsh pinches in his chest loosening up some more the longer he’s here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They step through the front door and Harry flips on the lights, locking it behind them while Louis waits in the foyer, watching. Harry checks it twice, then turns, smiles, and heads for the stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are you going?” Louis asks, unable to bite his tongue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gonna have a shower and then head to bed, I think,” Harry says. “Why?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis fidgets and toes at one of the crooked boards in the floor, shrugging at him and trying to seem subtle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, don’t you, uhm, want to watch your show?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a completely transparent attempt to try to keep Harry down here with him but at this point Louis’ even more willing to put himself out there like this if the alternative means spending the night scared, alone, and sleepless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pausing on the bottom step of the stairs, Harry turns around, walking back past Louis to slide his boots off and set them next to the door. He removes his hat to hang on the hook and rolls up his sleeves a bit, a bright grin stretching his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Andy’s growing on you, huh?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Louis groans, throwing himself down onto the sofa. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hides his own smile in the crook of his arm as he pulls the throw blanket around himself, but it only grows even bigger when Harry fights him over getting some of it over his own legs too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He switches on the television and it’s already on the correct channel. Louis gives a halfhearted sigh just to push his point, his face still turned away and lip bitten so that his teeth won’t show. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You like it,” Harry mutters to himself, the smirk evident in his tone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis doesn’t bother correcting him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>+</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their daily routines slowly begin to mirror each other, but Louis can’t say he minds a bit of predictability. After a long day of working outside, he’s more than happy to relax with Harry in any way he happens to come up with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tonight, he’s taking Louis back out to the barn. It’s become a comfort thing for him really, somewhere Louis feels safe. He can hear the animals around them and the trees swaying outside, feeling like he’s in a whole separate world than wherever he’d been just a month or two before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, it’s dark out now,” Harry says, hopping up from where they’d been sitting, tired after walking around the property with the calves to familiarize them now that they’re more active. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just a sec,” Harry grunts, climbing up the stacks of hay until he can reach a rope near the top. When he tugs on it Louis can feel moonlight ghosting over him, a hatch in the roof slowly opening until he can see the stars. “That’s more like it,” he smiles, stepping back down again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Much better,” Louis agrees. “You know, I’ve never actually watched the stars before. It’s like, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> they’re there but I never just take the time to look up at them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It sounds stupid when he says it, but Harry only leans up on his elbows to stare him down again. “You’ve never taken a car out to the country and just - watched? Never been on a romantic date out under ‘em?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t been on a date before,” Louis admits. He pretends he doesn’t see Harry’s eyes go wider. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never?” Harry whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis shakes his head, “Nope. Never had the time, never met the right person. And if I did, I wasn’t in town longer than a few nights.” He shrugs, “Just never happened for me, I guess.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The way you talk about L.A.,” Harry fishmouths, “It sounds awful. No dates, no time to appreciate the scenery. No good lovers,” he adds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snorting, Louis bites his lip. “You got that right,” he agrees. Somewhere along the way talking to Harry just became comfortable, like something he’d been doing for years. Now he just seems to let things slip that he hadn’t necessarily meant to say, but Harry takes all of it in stride and never makes him feel uncomfortable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You deserve to have all of those things,” Harry tells him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly the atmosphere seems to shift. Dates sound okay, sight-seeing sounds lovely, but Louis’ most concerned with the last stipulation - lovers. His mind gets hung up on the image of Harry, what kind of lover </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> would be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All of them?” Louis breathes, leaning back to look up at him properly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s gentle and tender when he speaks and the way he holds Louis, but he’s also firm. He fills up a room without even trying, and towers heads above him when they’re together. If he had to guess, he would say Harry is a safe, generous lover. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which only does him in more, really. Louis </span>
  <em>
    <span>craves</span>
  </em>
  <span> safety. Especially with everything going on in his life at the moment, he feels like he needs it even more than usual. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All of ‘em,” Harry matches his tone, leaning forward until their noses bump together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kiss he plants on Louis’ lips is slow but thorough. His hand spanning from Louis’ neck up to his forehead, Harry sucks on his tongue leisurely and with purpose. When he pulls away again, Louis’ gone breathless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean it, Louis,” he insists, breath ghosting across Louis’ wet lips. Harry’s eyes flicker between both of Louis’ before his face softens into a smile, “Baby blue.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry,” he answers to the sweet nickname, “Please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got you, darling, c’mere.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He keeps his eyes shut as Harry kisses him some more, leaning him back slowly onto the blanket-covered hay below until he’s on his back. Hips bucking up into him automatically, Louis whimpers as he searches subconsciously for touch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been so long since he’s felt like this, if </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span>. No one ever wants to get to know him, to take the time to pick apart his habits enough to get him like this for the way he pushes them out constantly. He’s glad Harry got stuck with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s attentive just like Louis thought he would be as he presses kisses into his neck and collarbones, calloused hands smoothing up and down his arms soothingly. Hot breath leaves Louis’ lips, uneven while Harry covers his entire chest with his kisses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His legs spread wider to accommodate Harry in between them. When Louis’ hips buck up again, he hovers above him to cup his cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What d’you want, Lou?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he says, “You, Harry,</span>
  <em>
    <span> please.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’d been nice to take things slow for once, but he fears he might combust if he doesn’t get to finally have Harry inside of him. Louis swears he can hear the relieved exhale from him, feel the heavy breath hitting his skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gonna love you like you deserve,” Harry utters, brushing the hair back from his forehead, “Gonna show you what you’ve been missing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Louis moans, arching his back in anticipation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because of everything they’d talked about before, the moment feels more tangible. Harry isn’t a stranger - he’s grown to be so much more than that. And it’s obvious in the way they’re moving together now, in the way he doesn’t flinch even when Harry gets a hand underneath his shirt to smooth over his heaving chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis can just barely feel the pricks of the hay through the flannel blanket under him but he isn’t bothered by it. The silk sheets and fancy, king-sized beds he’s used to don’t even really cross his mind when he shifts to move with Harry’s mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shirt he’s wearing is an old one of Harry’s, a light blue button up that’d immediately caught his eye when he’d seen it in the laundry. Louis’ never been particularly fond of his body, has never willingly undressed for anyone before, but he lets Harry undo the first few buttons until the top only hangs loosely off of his shoulders, his stomach and chest fully exposed to the cool night air drifting in through the doors. It feels extraordinarily vulnerable in the private space between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So sweet,” Harry breathes, “Just perfect f’me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Large hands raise to press against his nipples, teasing them endlessly as surprised gasps fall from Louis’ lips. Being so obviously valued isn’t something he’s familiar with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry pinches them between his fingertips, balancing on the edge of being painful. Still, he swings down and licks over them afterward to soften the sting. Below his waist, Louis thinks passively that he’s harder than he’s ever been, and Harry hasn’t even touched him properly yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All too soon he’s backing away again, leaning up on his knees over Louis to get a better look. Louis fights every instinct in him to curl up and hide. Instead, he makes himself lay back and control his breathing, delighting in the quiet, excited spark in Harry’s gaze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He traces a fingertip down between Louis’ ribs, circling his belly button and tracing the line of his pants before doing it all over again. Louis’s ticklish, and he giggles at the feeling. Harry grins right back, leaning forward to take his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Calloused hands cradle the curve of his hips delicately. Denim-covered knees settle in the space between Louis’ thighs, spreading him open further. Every touch feels fleeting and all-consuming all at once, Louis’ brain struggling to keep up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I touch you?” Harry asks, rough palms moving further down his body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Louis nods, “Please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without wasting any time, Harry lifts a hand from his waist and places it over Louis’ prick inside of his pants still, straining up against the material and begging for Harry’s attention. He coos when he feels it, his hand covering all of the outline of Louis’ length. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sight sends Louis moaning, twisting in his hold while his head falls backward on the hay. He bucks upward into the feeling, practically begging to be touched and hoping Harry understands the message. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s still a gentleman as he leans up to press kisses into Louis’ jaw, his nimble fingers working him out of his pants below so quickly that Louis doesn’t even realize what’s happening at first. He doesn’t take them fully off and at first he wonders why, but then he feels the itch of the hay beneath and smiles, grateful for the consideration he wouldn’t have thought of himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re lovely,” Harry says again, his voice even thicker than it’d been before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re -” Louis gasps, pushing his chest upward as Harry captures his nipple in between his teeth. “You’re amazing,” is all he can come up with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry chuckles warmly above him, hands still roaming all around the upper half of Louis’ body. He never responds, too caught up in leaving bright red lovebites littered across his chest and the top of his stomach, anywhere he can reach with the top buttons of Louis’ shirt undone. Louis whines, hands resting on the back of Harry’s head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wanna taste you,” he rasps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without much else of a warning, Harry slides back down to where Louis’ pants are undone, his prick halfway out and leaking through the fabric of his underwear. It’s only awkward for a moment when he tugs them off of him completely and then lays them out underneath him so that Louis’ skin won’t get scratched by the hay. His boxers come next, and Louis’ nearly ashamed of how needy he’s being. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By </span>
  <em>
    <span>nearly</span>
  </em>
  <span> he means it hits him as soon as he’s naked from the waist down with Harry’s mouth hovering over his prick. His cheeks flood with even more color and his stomach tenses, teeth already seeking out his bottom lip to nibble on again for his nerves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I - </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Louis tries to say something, to apologize or warn him or anything else, but he doesn’t get the chance. Harry strokes him quickly and evenly, wasting no time in spreading around the wetness already gathered at the tip. After ages of no one touching him, of not even touching </span>
  <em>
    <span>himself</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Louis nearly comes the moment he first gets a hand on him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he does his best not to, eyes glued to the roof of the barn as his eyelashes flutter. Harry isn’t even doing anything but pulling him off but it’s already so much more than enough. Louis worries if he’ll even be able to handle anything more, biting back a moan as it threatens to slip from his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feel good?” Harry murmurs against his hip, calculated eyes watching him thrash back and forth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y - yeah,” Louis breathes. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Good</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Louis’ breath catches Harry grabs one of his thighs, pushing it backwards and leaving him even more exposed. He presses a sweet kiss to Louis’ thigh before he adjusts himself, stroking Louis with one hand while the other ventures further down. He gasps again when Harry thumbs over his hole, unable to even recall the last time someone had been there. He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>aching</span>
  </em>
  <span> for it. Louis’d forgotten just how much he enjoys this when it’s done </span>
  <em>
    <span>correctly</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And all of it may be just a bit too fast and a little reckless but after so long of going with the status quo he refuses to turn himself down. It feels </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span>, comfortable, and that’s all that should matter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wonders for a moment how Harry seems to be so good at all of this but he figures there isn’t much else to do when you’re alone out here, picturing Harry getting himself off in the shower or in his bed late at night. It’s a sight Louis would pay to see. Really, he doesn’t think he’s all that far off from seeing it </span>
  <em>
    <span>tonight</span>
  </em>
  <span>. His mouth waters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry gets the tip of one of his fingers inside of him and Louis openly mewls, clawing for Harry’s shoulders and overwhelmed. It’s just right - the stretch, the way Harry’s grip tightens up on his prick, the feeling of his lips moving across his lower stomach, </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It’s all perfect and Louis’ about to yank him up and tell him to get inside of him, but Harry pauses and shifts upward, pulling his finger out and hovering above him again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit,” he curses, “I don’t have anything on me. S’at the house.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes all of the strength left in his body to raise up onto his elbows, blushing as he glances at Harry settled between his thighs. “Perks of being out here all alone, yeah?” Louis repeats his earlier words, “Go get them and come back.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, alright, be right back,” he rushes, kissing Louis one last time as he cups his bulge awkwardly and jogs out of the barn toward the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The quiet moment gives him some perspective. With the high risk, he hasn’t been able to get off with anyone in months now. He’s glad Harry took his time stretching him out. Instead of the bitter feeling he usually gets before sex, Louis feels calm. Safe. Despite the short time they’ve known each other, Louis has no doubt Harry’s going to be the best he’s ever had. People in the industry that they set him up with are fast and clinical, but here time seems to run slower. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not once has he ever been this worked up </span>
  <em>
    <span>before</span>
  </em>
  <span> someone was inside of him, nearly coming from his fingers alone. As he gazes up at the wooden slats of the ceiling, Louis thinks he made the right decision. It’s refreshing, really - the fact that he doesn’t feel an ounce of fear lingering in his brain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Harry apologizes, rushing back through the open doors. He’s got a bottle of lube in one hand and a pack of condoms in the other, his jeans hanging loose and low on his hips. Mouth watering, Louis lays back again to make room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry leans over sideways and kisses him first to ease them back into the moment. Louis curls a hand around the back of his neck to keep him there but he slips away after a few long seconds despite the pressure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still sure?” He pauses on top of him, about to rip open the foil and get himself slicked up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Louis nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though Harry’s cock catches the corner of his vision, Louis doesn’t look away from his face. Harry doesn’t seem to want to look away from him either, only sparing a quick glance to make sure he gets it on properly before finding his eyes again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The atmosphere around them feels charged instead of falling flat like he’s used to. He isn’t bored or ready to get it over with, waiting for Harry to push inside, rather enthralled by each of his slow, gentle movements as he gets both of them ready. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis’ legs are pushed upward to his chest when Harry reaches a hand down to slip two of his fingers inside again, making sure he was thorough enough before. Louis sighs when he’s met with no resistance, ready to feel all of him at long last. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Harry pulls his fingers out and spreads Louis even wider until his thighs are burning with the stretch, and kisses him softly. He plants a hand down next to Louis’ head and positions himself with the other. Harry slides into him in slow increments, carefully watching his face for any discomfort. Louis holds the eye contact even as he feels so overwhelmed he can hardly breathe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I can’t - can’t,” Louis babbles helplessly, clutching at Harry’s broad shoulders above him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh, honey. You can have it, can have whatever you want, my love,” Harry murmurs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, please,” Louis whimpers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His cock slides deeper, already filling him up but not yet fully sheathed. He’s - Harry is </span>
  <em>
    <span>big</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Probably, Louis thinks vaguely, the biggest he’s ever had. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M’right here, baby blue.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis mewls at his endearment, presenting himself more comfortably for Harry to take. His fists curl up and push on Harry’s shoulders the further he settles, looking little against his large frame. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only when he can feel the added heaviness of Harry’s balls outside of his hole does he manage an exhale. Harry’s entire body is taut, carefully frozen as he waits for Louis’ call. Still, he runs a hand over Louis’face tenderly and kisses away the tears that leak from the corners of his eyes, ignoring his own instincts so he can make sure he’s alright. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Overcome with sudden warmth, Louis clings to him tightly in an effort to keep him close. Louis wants so many things, wants to ride him, wants Harry to take him from behind, maybe even up against the wall, but for right now, Louis’ glad they’re face to face. He thinks he still needs to see the validation there, that Harry’s just as satisfied as he is. Their moans echo in the wide expanse of the barn, ricocheting back into Louis’ ears as soon as they leave their mouths each time he shifts accidentally. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You ready for me,” Harry asks in a murmur, thumbing at the corner of Louis’ lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah - yeah,” he nods, gulping, “M’ready.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This isn’t anything like his ‘contractual obligations’ back in California. Harry’s here because he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be, but more importantly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Louis’</span>
  </em>
  <span> here because he wants to be. It wasn’t planned but it fell into place perfectly, spontaneous and in the moment and everything he’s always wanted to have. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shudders when Harry slides out and pushes back inside in between one second and the next, pausing again to make sure he’s still alright. This is another first for him - he’s never been able to see someone’s face before. Usually he keeps his face to the mattress and his noises inside, but Harry just seems to be defying all of his expectations. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His own reactions are transparent in a way that Louis didn’t know he craved. Every time he buries himself inside again his face pinches, eyebrows pulled inward as he groans, kissing over Louis’ face. Louis loses himself for a second in just watching him, in realizing that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> the reason for those reactions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s so caught up in it that he jerks when one of Harry’s hands reaches down to cradle his prick again, thumbing lightly over the head. Louis remembers countless times when he had to get himself off without any help, men who didn’t much care if he came or not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Harry </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span>, mouthing at Louis’ parted lips while he pulls him off in time with his thrusts. He shifts up on his elbow to lace his fingers with Louis’, holding one of his hands above his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It should be embarrassing, how quickly Louis starts to come, but he doesn’t feel ashamed when he whimpers and shakes, mouth caught around Harry’s name as his eyes fall shut. It feels like it keeps going, Harry’s hand unrelenting on his spurting prick between them, unwilling to let go even as Harry’s own shoulders cave in with a deep groan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hissing, Louis widens his legs as much as he can, Harry’s hips slamming inside of him unevenly as he fills the condom. Louis hums at the closeness of it all, grateful that Harry hadn’t pulled out and asked to come on his arse like most of them do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally he lets go of Louis’ spent prick, both of them shivering from the cold or the sensitivity or both. He exhales with Harry’s face pressed into his neck. Louis runs his hands down the expanse of his back, his hips still twitching a bit as he finishes off inside of him, one hand in his hair. Harry’s hand squeezes Louis’ where they’re still laced together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The longer they lay there the more Louis’ senses come back to him. He can smell the trophs of food below them, can hear the animals shifting around down in their enclosures and the wind whistling outside. He feels the hay underneath them as they shift, the sweat drying on his skin as he continues to smooth a hand over Harry’s spine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as his limbs begin to ache, Harry lifts his head to look into his eyes, his breathing only just now returning to normal. He says nothing but leans forward to kiss Louis’ lips again, bringing their latched hands up to rub at his cheek softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they part he eases himself up as gently as he can, careful to slide out of him slow after the harsh treatment. Louis appreciates it more than he knows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This definitely hadn’t been planned. Louis’ got hay in places he wishes it wasn’t, scratches and lovebites as evidence of his neediness and spontaneity. They’re even mostly still clothed, having not bothered to undress fully with the weight of their instincts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For years now, sex has felt like an obligation. Like something that he has to do every once in a while just so he won’t bite anyone’s heads off with his frustration. Somewhere between all of the contracts and the strangers hired to come and ‘take care of him’ that did the farthest thing from that, the entire idea of it had lost its sanctity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now Louis finally feels like he’s reclaimed it for himself. This time it was totally </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> choice, on </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> time, and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>enjoyed</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. More than enjoyed it, really. He gets a bit giddy thinking of the ache sure to be there in the morning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the doubt is liable to come with it when it’s daylight again, but Louis knows he won’t regret it. It doesn’t seem like Harry will either, not when he shoots Louis a tired smile from where he’d climbed down to dispose of the condom, tugging his pants back on. He returns to lean over Louis again, redoing the buttons of his top and pressing a kiss to his cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bundled up in Harry’s arms as he’s carried back to the house, he doesn’t feel an ounce of the negativity he used to in the aftermath. All he feels is sated, happy, and most importantly, still </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time when he falls asleep on the sofa, he isn’t stuck with his head in Harry’s lap. This time Harry lays him down and curls protectively around him, his heavy arm holding him to his chest. His hot breaths on the back of Louis’ neck keep him grounded to the moment, chasing away his fears for the time being. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis wonders what it’ll be like in the morning, if Harry will want to keep being as close as they’ve been or if he’ll back off now that they’ve slept together. Somehow deep down he knows that isn’t the kind of person Harry is, though. That’s why his heartbeat stays steady while he cycles through his usual doubts, only this time devoid of any real merit. They’d been so good together Louis doesn’t think they could separate now if they tried. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time since the whole thing started, Louis wonders if maybe, despite all of the trauma and the nervousness and the worry, it was all for a reason. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>+</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gotcha something from town,” Harry says, smirking as he shuts the front door behind him. He’d had to go out again for groceries, but Louis doesn’t care about those when he might have </span>
  <em>
    <span>presents</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A present?” He gasps, “Gimme, gimme.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry grins, handing over the brown paper bag. Louis </span>
  <em>
    <span>loves</span>
  </em>
  <span> gifts. Usually he has to buy them for himself since no one wants to give him any, but he doesn’t mind. He’s always had a thing for being spoiled. He thinks it comes from growing up in a home with no money, but he tries not to think about that, either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rips open the paper, careful to keep it all intact since it’s pretty. Peeking inside the bag, he can see light blue fabric at the bottom. His mind goes wild with what could be on it, if it’s a shirt or a jacket or something Harry had specially made. Biting his lip, Louis reaches a hand in and pulls it out, letting the bag drop to the ground. And it’s - </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a tee shirt, price tag with </span>
  <em>
    <span>SALE</span>
  </em>
  <span> printed over it still attached to the bottom corner, reading </span>
  <em>
    <span>Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy</span>
  </em>
  <span> across the front in giant, black letters. When he glances back up at Harry’s face, he looks so smug Louis nearly slaps him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what exactly made you think it was okay to get this for me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to answer that question, love?” Harry winks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Never one for wasting time, Louis tugs off his shirt and lets it pool on the living room floor. He slides the new one over his chest, ripping the price tag off. It’s a bit big for him, but just in the way he likes, where it doesn’t hug the parts of him he doesn’t want accentuated but still compliments his assets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” he prompts, hand on his hip, “is it everything you imagined?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S’</span>
  <em>
    <span>better</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Harry grunts, charging forward to kiss him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands cover his cheeks before they move down to his waist, the shirt sliding smoothly over his skin even as it bunches up around his hips. Louis moans into his mouth, breathing roughly through his nose so he won’t have to part their lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a show of strength, Harry bends to pick him up underneath his thighs, adjusting him until he’s got his legs locked around his hips. Harry’s thick belt digs into him just bordering on painful, but his whimper gets lost in Harry’s mouth. He’s carried through the main hallway until they reach Harry’s bedroom. Only when the door is kicked shut behind them does Louis blink his eyes open again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room is much prettier than the guest bed, decorated with knick-knacks and personal items that make him pause to smile. It looks like Harry, from the mismatched bedding to the obnoxious rug on the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re all he manages to see before he’s laid down on the mattress, Harry leaning in to hover above him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S’this okay?” He whispers, bumping their noses together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Biting his lip, Louis nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it’s okay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tongues over Louis’ lips as soon as he has permission, breathing harshly into the space. This time everything feels smoother, like they know each other’s bodies now that they’ve already been together once. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if Louis ever stopped thinking about it. The way Harry held him, made sure he felt safe the entire time, how he didn’t just focus on his own pleasure, but delighted in Louis’ as well. Harry makes him feel wanted in a way that he can’t remember </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> feeling before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hadn’t been in quickies on the tour bus, not in one night stands in foreign hotel rooms. Every time he left unsatisfied, just a bit more dejected after each attempt. The buildup was never worth it, either. He’d have to pick someone beforehand, arrange a contract, and work out all of the details before he’d even seen them face-to-face. Once he did, it typically ended only minutes later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soft, blue material grazes over him where he’s sensitive, over his tummy and the tops of his thighs. It’s even more of a reminder of all of the differences. He used to feel pressure to dress in clothes that he hated to look good for someone so that maybe they would think he looked good underneath them, too. Louis remembers vividly refusing to take off his clothes with his other partners. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then there’s Harry, who had looked at him with nothing but admiration and awe. Harry who brought home a silly tee shirt that he wants to fuck Louis in because it reminded him of him and not just because he thinks he’d look sexy in it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With Harry it feels different than it always did before. Louis’ skin blushes wherever he lingers, excitement zipping through him like right before he steps out to perform. Harry feels like a living, breathing human presence on top of him that isn’t here to perform a service, but rather because he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Louis pushes on his chest, their lips parting with a smack, “Lemme try something, yeah?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Overwhelmed by the sudden need to please, Louis scrambles out from under him after he nods to push him back toward the pillows. Harry’s chest broadens as he sits against the headboard, his muscles flexing as Louis’ mouth waters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes light up when Louis throws a leg over his lap, slowly situating his clothed arse against his bulge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Lou,” he groans. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling to himself, he shifts backwards and forwards on top of him until he gets restless, gripping at Louis’ hips to control their rhythm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Breathless, he leans forward to kiss Harry’s jaw down to his neck. He smells like his body wash from his shower this morning but he also smells like </span>
  <em>
    <span>man</span>
  </em>
  <span> and Louis inhales as deeply as possible where his neck meets his collarbone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A large hand runs over the length of Louis’ back, hesitating only for a second at his trousers before moving inside, dragging a finger over his hole. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gasping quietly, he freezes as Harry nudges one inside, still easy from the previous time they’d been together. Two proves to be more challenging though, and Harry removes his hand to spit over his fingers filthily before returning it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time he does get both of them in, scissoring the digits until Louis falls into his chest. He manages to work Louis up to three before he stops altogether. All too soon he’s being thrown from Harry’s lap onto his back on the bed, greedy hands at the hem of his pants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Need you naked,” Harry growls. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Now</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah,” Louis writhes, twisting to help Harry undress him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t take much for him since they both insist on keeping the shirt on, but Harry takes a bit longer to undress himself. Louis leans back on his elbows to watch from across the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry starts with his boots, tugging them off along with his socks underneath and setting them next to the door carefully. He unbuckles his belt with a clang and undoes his jeans, sliding them down with his boxers, then swiftly takes care of the buttons on his shirt. His thumbs fly over them in a hurry as his eyes draw up and down Louis’ body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When everything else is discarded on the ground, he reaches up to take off his hat. Louis reaches forward on instinct, opening his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t,” he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s mouth curls up naughtily, his gaze significantly more heated than it’d been before. He stalks back toward him with obvious intent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It sends Louis whining all over again, desperate to reach out and touch. Harry bends down to his level to press a kiss to his cheek before climbing back over him. He doesn’t stop, keeps rolling until he’s back against the headboard once more, glancing at Louis expectantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His shirt flutters around him as he crawls over Harry’s thighs for a second time and balances there. Now he can feel bare skin against his most intimate areas, and they both let out a shaky breath as he sits back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis’ own cock sits parallel to his body under the top, hidden away but slowly leaving a wet patch on the front of it. Harry’s, however, is extremely difficult to miss as it bobs with his movements. Louis’ eyes fall to it while he reaches over to grab the lube and a condom from his nightstand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t gotten a real chance to see him properly before, in the barn. It’d been dark and Louis had been... </span>
  <em>
    <span>preoccupied</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He’s kind of glad he hadn’t because he’s pretty sure he would’ve been panicking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry is </span>
  <em>
    <span>big</span>
  </em>
  <span>, much bigger than Louis is. While he isn’t necessarily embarassed of the fact, he is mildly concerned with the difference. He scrambles to think back to that night. Had he really managed to have all of it inside of him? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lou,” Harry calls, stroking a hand down the side of his face. “Y’alright?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm? Yeah, yeah, I just - uhm,” Louis rolls his lips together, still staring down at Harry’s prick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know I didn’t mean - with the shirt. We don’t have to do anything, love.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I want to, I promise. I just didn’t get a chance to see you, y’know, before -” he explains. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaning back cockily but sounding genuine, Harry puts his arms behind his head and shifts his chest forward. “Look all you want, darlin’.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis huffs halfway at his confidence but remains somewhat speechless. Before he can get too ahead of himself, Louis grabs the hat off of his head and moves it to his own, feeling foreign and too big as it rests on his forehead. It seems to excite Harry, though, who punches his hips up instinctively with a magnified groan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giggling quickly, he grabs onto Harry’s shoulders so he won’t fall over. Then he slides down the rest of his body shimmying awkwardly until Harry’s cock is in front of his face and the laughter seems to dissipate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s only one time Louis’ ever been on his knees for someone, and that’d been on a movie set. With people all around him and no </span>
  <em>
    <span>actual</span>
  </em>
  <span> touching, it felt much different than this. Now it’s real, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Harry’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> real, and Louis doesn’t want to disappoint him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hat still feels odd on his head but he doesn’t remove it, glancing up at Harry’s face as he raises a tentative hand to wrap around him. The reaction is instantaneous, a deep groan and an upward jolt of his hips. His movement thrusts his cock forward so much that it just barely grazes the curve of Louis’ lip, and he can’t help the way his mouth fills with saliva. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a bead of translucent precome on his chin, Louis can </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> it, and his tongue darts out on its own to have a taste. Humming, he blushes when Harry catches his eye knowingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, Lou,” he rasps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spurred on by his reactions, Louis leans forward until he’s directly above Harry’s cock. He strokes him lightly a few more times before he decides he’s had enough, closing the rest of the space and pressing his parted lips against the head of his dick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry curses and shifts, reaching down to raise the front of the hat so he can see Louis’ face. He keeps his grin to a muted smile as he widens his lips, taking more of Harry until he covers the expanse of his tongue completely. Louis’ got no idea what he’s doing but he doesn’t seem to be doing it </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Harry’s eyes pinched shit and a wrinkle in his forehead, the rest of his body tensing rapidly underneath Louis’ mouth and hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a lot of ways, they’re similar. Harry hasn’t been able to be with anyone in just as long as Louis, despite the different circumstances. They’ve both been lonely and stubborn and maybe even slightly self-sabotaging, but Louis shakes his head. They aren’t like that anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He suctions his cheeks like he’s seen somewhere in the dark corners of the internet, tongueing around the tip of his cock as it leaks into the back of his throat. He won’t pretend to be a professional quite yet, especially not with someone as endowed as Harry is, still just using his hands to work over the rest of his length. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his other hand Louis reaches below to run a finger over the sensitive skin of Harry’s balls, and that does it. His hips jerk up into Louis’ mouth and he chokes around him, his eyes tearing up as he blinks and pulls off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was nice,” Harry mutters, “But enough </span>
  <em>
    <span>looking</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hands appear underneath Louis’ armpits to pull him back up his body again until his arse rests over the tops of Harry’s thighs and Louis can feel his cock graze his skin, still wet and leaking and achingly hard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leans forward until he’s in Louis’ face and breathing hot over his skin. He nibbles at Louis’ lips as he reaches blindly for the condom they’d laid out, slipping it on himself behind Louis’ back. Wrapping his arms around Harry’s shoulders, Louis falls with him when he lays back on the bed again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You ready for me?” he mumbles, tongue still dancing inside of Louis’ mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of a response, Louis reaches backward and situates Harry’s cock at his entrance, sinking back onto it fast at first, and then slowing when it’s a bit more of a stretch than he remembered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s allotted a few moments to familiarize himself before Harry’s hips begin to move on their own impatiently, driving himself up into Louis. Squealing, he holds on the best he can as he’s jostled up and down again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t find this in L.A.,” Harry grunts, “Can you, darlin’?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands secure themselves on Louis’ hips, fingers digging deeply into the skin there. It gives way underneath his grip, leaving red, Harry-shaped marks he hopes will stay for days afterward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-no, can’t,” Louis gasps, falling forward with his hands braced on Harry’s chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tha’s right,” Harry mumbles to himself. “Only here, ain’t that right? Only with </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only with you,” he repeats mindlessly, breathily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Within seconds he’s thrown down onto his back instead, the cowboy hat falling off onto the pillow, not that Harry seems to notice or care. He sits up on his knees and drives himself back into him, lifting Louis’ legs straight up in the air and holding them apart with his calloused hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis’ head tips fully backwards, his back arching off of the bed as his mouth falls open and his eyes roll into his head. Harry fucks into him languidly but with practiced motions, rocking so deeply inside of him that Louis can’t help the noises falling from his lips. He thrashes on the pillow, feeling so good he isn’t sure how to handle it. Yeah, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> can’t find this anywhere else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Usually he’s calm and gentle, but Louis can’t say he doesn’t like this too. He arches upward and keens, his hands struggling to find something to hold onto. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry - Harry,” he gasps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You gonna come for me?” He hums, licking up the side of Louis’ neck. “Let me see it, baby, c’mon.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Choking around nothing but air, Louis screams as he comes, watching it land in stripes up Harry’s broad chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s right,” he murmurs, bending down filthily to lick some off that’d landed on his arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Uh</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Louis moans weakly, pulling his legs apart even further for Harry to find his own release. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He does so quickly, ramming forward so hard that Louis’ head knocks into the headboard a few times, but Louis can only blink hazily up at him and beg for it with his eyes, fucked out and floating away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry collapses on top of him in a sweaty heap, still driving his hips inside as he continues to come. Louis strokes a hand down the back of his head and sighs, content. Just as he’s beginning to lift off of him, Louis tightens his hold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” he says. He grabs for the discarded cowboy hat from across the sheets, pulling it closer and resting it on top of Harry’s curls again. “That’s better,” he smiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry laughs tiredly, his whole body shaking with it, kissing Louis deeply once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My cowboy,” Louis adds, his words beginning to slur. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re delirious,” Harry chuckles, bumping their noses together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are,” Louis argues. “My cowboy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To prove his point he brings both of his legs up before Harry can get away, wrapping completely around him from head to toe. Eventually he stops fighting and collapses again, burying his face in Louis’ neck. He sucks a noisy lovebite into Louis’ collarbone and then pulls back to look him in the eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your cowboy,” he repeats, grinning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis doesn’t remember how many more times they repeat it to each other before they finally get up to shower. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>+</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On Saturday night, Harry surprises him. He leads Louis outside with one of his bandanas wrapped around his eyes, refusing to remove it as they drive down the backroads somewhere he won’t tell him. Louis whines but Harry pretends he doesn’t hear it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually the truck comes to a stop, the sound of Harry’s door opening and closing echoing in his ears. He does his best to wait patiently when his own door is open and Harry offers a hand to help him out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are we?” Louis asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just a sec,” Harry grunts, leaving Louis standing alone while he rustles around for a few moments. “Okay,” he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hands back on Louis’ shoulders, he leads him further out before he reaches up to undo the blind fold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ta-da,” he hums. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Louis blinks his eyes open the bed of Harry’s truck is parked facing the sunset up on the hill, blankets and pillows scattered around the entire back. There’s a lantern propped up against one side, a small basket of what Louis assumes is food near the bottom. He grins, spinning around to hug Harry tightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is amazing,” he breathes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really? You like it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The insecure edge in Harry’s voice doesn’t sit right with him so Louis hops up into it and scoots back until he’s up against the cab of the truck, patting the spot next to him for Harry to sit. Chuckling, he climbs in after Louis, settling in just in time to see the sun set. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a small chill in the air but it doesn’t bother him much, not when he’s wrapped up in the blanket with Harry’s body heat hovering over his skin. Louis scoots backward so he’s leaning even further into him and then glances upward, noting the way Harry won’t meet his eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did you do all of this?” He asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I - I wanted to tell you somethin’,” Harry says quietly, a nervous furrow in his brow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” Louis whispers, matching his tone and careful not to disturb the atmosphere. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I - uh, I’ve been thinking about the competition a lot recently,” he begins, clearing his throat several times, “I was thinking about my dad and how he wouldn't have wanted me to just - live in fear of it the rest of my life.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis waits for him to finish, unsure of what he could have to say. He rubs his thumb gently over the back of Harry’s hand, watching him struggle to find the words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I signed up to ride. I’ve been practicin’ early every morning and I think - I think I’m ready for it. I don’t want to keep doin’ it, but I think it’d be good for me to finish it, once and for all. Get closure, n’all that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry, I - that’s amazing,” Louis grins, leaning over to wrap his arms around his shoulders. “I’m so happy for you. Will I be able to come and watch you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want to?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I do,” Louis frowns. “This is important to you and I want to be a part of it if I can.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, a knowing smile spreads across Harry’s lips as he reaches over to hold Louis’ cheek in his hand, “You already are.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes his time cradling Louis’ face and tracing the curve of his eyebrow and his lip before his expression morphs into something more serious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I suppose you could come, but we have to be really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> careful, alright? You’ve got to wear something that covers your head and we’ve got to make sure your tattoos aren’t visible -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis kisses him to hide his excitement, humming contentedly against Harry's lips as a thank you. They kiss for a few minutes slowly, Harry’s tongue dancing across the seam of his lips. It’s unhurried and perfect, the chill in the air just giving him an excuse to get even closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry pulls away and it’s quiet for a moment, his throat bobbing as he swallows and looks down to catch Louis’ eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“D’you believe in fate?” Harry whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think I’ve ever thought about it,” Louis admits. “How do you mean?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry gulps next to him, shifting his head on the hay. “Like, everything happens for a reason. Like some things are just predetermined for us for reasons we don’t know yet.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think, maybe sometimes it seems that way, yeah. Why do you ask?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My parents were perfect for each other,” is all he says. “I have no doubt that they were meant to be. After he passed away, she couldn’t take it - couldn’t live in the house without him. I - I don’t really blame her but,” he swallows thickly again, “It got lonely, you know? It still does, sometimes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Harry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, it’s alright. I’ve come to peace with most of that now, at least as much as I can,” he says. “But - my point was that - you know, you didn’t want to come here at first. To be honest with you, I didn’t much want you here either.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Louis whines, reaching over to smack his chest. Harry catches his hand, holding it there, over his heart, his eyes finally finding Louis’ as they lay side by side. Louis’ laughter fades. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did need the money,” Harry continues quietly, “but I think I also needed a lot more than that. You - you’re so unlike anythin’ here, Louis. You’re just - so </span>
  <em>
    <span>bright</span>
  </em>
  <span>. So intriguing to me and to everyone else you meet. It’s been ages since anything like that’s come around here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis flushes, heart warmed. “You think I’m bright?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The brightest,” Harry confirms softly. “And I guess what I’m trying to say is that sometimes it kinda - kinda seems like all of this was supposed to happen. And maybe that’s selfish of me because I know how much you miss your old life and you probably think I’m just some sad, country - </span>
  <em>
    <span>hmph</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Harry startles when Louis rolls on top of him, cutting him off with his lips for the second time before he can say anything else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands encircle Louis’ wrists where they’re holding his face below, mouths wet and humid from the air. It’s a good thing he stopped talking, Louis thinks, because he’d been about to spill out his guts. He’d probably have cried when he admitted that he no longer wanted to leave, that he felt the same way. Like for the first time in his life he wasn’t an imposter or undeserving, like he truly </span>
  <em>
    <span>belonged</span>
  </em>
  <span> here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would keep you here with me if I could,” Harry whispers against his lips, his thumb rubbing back and forth over Louis’ cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To avoid his voice cracking, Louis buries his face in his neck and inhales deeply, exhaling just as slowly. He blinks away the wetness on his lashline and hopes Harry doesn’t notice, his big hand rubbing circles over his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel safe with you,” Louis whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it’s not much, probably not even close to what Harry wants to hear right now, but to Louis it’s - it’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span>. To Louis it means </span>
  <em>
    <span>I trust you, I don’t want to leave</span>
  </em>
  <span>. For someone that hasn’t felt truly safe in a long, long time, it means the </span>
  <em>
    <span>world</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Louis,” Harry whispers, pushing away from him to see his face. He rolls them over until Louis’ back hits the sheet again, hovering inches above his quivering lip. “Baby blue,” he murmurs softly. “You have no </span>
  <em>
    <span>idea</span>
  </em>
  <span> how happy that makes me. I’m so, so happy you feel safe with me, sweetheart.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s like something breaks inside of him, a wave cascading down the side of a mountain before he can stop it. Louis’ body shakes as he sobs, clinging to Harry for comfort as he gives him everything he’s got. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis can’t remember the last time he cried like this. A few tears here and there maybe if he’d been stressed, but he’s never trusted anyone enough to see </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He can’t even catch his breath with how hard it racks him, face pressed into Harry’s chest and their legs intertwined in the bed of the truck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baby,” Harry shushes, “Baby blue, look at me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wipes wetness from Louis’ cheeks even as more dribbles out to take its place, moisture collecting in his hands. Harry doesn’t seem to care as he presses kisses across his forehead and over his eyelids. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Louis hiccups, gasping before settling again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Louis,” he breathes. “Always, you’ll </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> be safe with me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unable to think of anything else eloquent to say, Louis nods quickly. He knows he’s safe. He trusts Harry. And, now, the absolute last thing he wants to do is leave him. He’d thought he felt safe before with a team of security and bodyguards surrounding him at all times, a posse of management everywhere he went. But that hadn’t been </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span> - it’d been an artificial sense of safety. Any one of those people wouldn’t have defended him when it came down to it, no matter how much they were paid. Louis has no doubt Harry would, with or without the cash. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis lets himself be comforted, arching into the contour of Harry above him as he dries his tears and whispers half-written sonnets into his summer-heated skin. He drinks all of it in while he still has it, threading a hand through Harry’s hair and, even as his chest still vibrates with uneven breaths and his heart beats quicker from his upset, he smiles, the glint of the stars reflecting back in their eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he wants to say. This definitely has to be something like </span>
  <em>
    <span>fate</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>+</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The days leading up to the contest pass by in a blur. Now that Louis knows about it, he goes out extra early every morning to help Harry practice, pointing out flaws in his technique and places it looks like he could get hurt if he isn’t careful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He understands now why Harry wanted to do this. He’s really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> good, albeit scared, and Louis bets he gets it from his father if he’s as talented as Harry's said he was. Half the time he’s just in awe when Harry rides, his movements smooth and controlled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But they’ve been practicing with horses and on dummy’s, and his skills here don’t erase fully either of their nerves with a real bull. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite that, Harry seems </span>
  <em>
    <span>confident- </span>
  </em>
  <span>and more importantly, he seems</span>
  <em>
    <span> determined</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Louis can tell this is something he needs to do and he doesn’t waste a single moment questioning him on it, no matter how much it makes his heart race to think of anything happening to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Louis’ dressed head to toe in baggy clothing, one of Harry’s sweaters on his shoulders with a cap on his head to hide the top of his face. He’s got on jeans two sizes too big for him that are rolled up at the ankles, his feet shoved into an old pair of Vans that apparently used to be Harry’s cousins that’d been left here one summer. When he passes by the mirror he doesn’t even recognize himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry fusses over him for a good hour but Louis doesn’t say a word. It feels like he’s channeling his anxiety into making sure that Louis is safe, and the sentiment warms his heart so much that he can’t bring himself to call him out on it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time they’re in the car, his knuckles are white where they grip the steering wheel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got to keep your face hidden,” he reminds Louis. “Don’t take the cap off and stay in your seat like we said, that way when it’s over I can find you and we can leave without anyone noticing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry, we’ll be fine,” he soothes. “Just focus on yourself, yeah? How are you feeling?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs. “Good. Nervous. Mostly about you but, y’know,” he mutters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reaching across the console, Louis picks up his other hand and laces their fingers together. It feels totally out of his element and overly romantic for the moment but he doesn’t let go, Harry’s fingers tightening up like he’s afraid Louis might. His eyes flicker over, lingering on the black car following closely behind them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll be fine,” Louis says again, rubbing soothing circles on the back of Harry’s hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry still walks him to his seat when they get there, making sure he’s situated with the bathroom and a water and some food if he needs it since he isn’t supposed to get up. He doesn’t leave until Louis quite literally pushes him away, leaning up on his tiptoes to press a kiss into his cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go get ‘em, Harry,” he grins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re early so that Harry could prepare beforehand, but the stands begin to fill up very quickly. From his seat in the middle, Louis strains to see over people’s heads while keeping his own down, watching for the contestants behind the gates. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first one happens before Louis even catches what's going on. He’s on the ground so fast that it seems like everyone else is just as surprised, less than two seconds on the big clock at the end of the arena. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bit of an improvement, the second rider lasts four and a half seconds. Louis cheers lightly for him but frowns, keeping in mind that Harry will have to beat the highest time to win. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He startles when he hears Jack’s name over the intercom, watching him high fiving people cockily behind the enclosure. Louis squints as they help him up onto the frantic bull, his eyes going wide for a fraction of a second before the alarm sounds and they release them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holding his breath, Louis counts in his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>One. Two. Three. Four. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack is still holding on tightly, angling his body so he won’t fall when the bull rears his head up. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Five. Six. Sev-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Seven and a half seconds. Jack makes it </span>
  <em>
    <span>seven and a half seconds</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Palms sweating, Louis rubs them on his sweater and gulps. Harry’s good, but even his father’s best time had been in the high six’s. At this point Louis couldn’t care less about him winning, so long as he comes out of this unscathed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The announcer’s voice comes back on and Harry’s name rings out across the stadium, a sort of hush falling across the crowd when they realize who it is. Without even caring anymore, Louis stands up in the stands and ignores the people who complain behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>C’mon</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he whispers to himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They help Harry up the same way they did Jack. Louis watches for any signs, noting that Harry doesn’t seem nervous. He’s got a determined glint in his eye that Louis can see even from here, his hands steady. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Counting down from three, the crowd chants around him until the buzzer sounds again and the gate opens. Harry emerges on the bull, one hand clasped tightly around its neck with the other high in the air to balance out his weight. He leans expertly like they’d been practicing, navigating the ride to his own advantage. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>One. Two. Three. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>C’mon</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Louis whispers again. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Four. Five. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone knocks into Louis from behind and he stumbles, barely managing to catch himself as he glances over his shoulder to see who it was on instinct. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis catches the back of their black hoodie as they turn away, hands stuffed in their pockets. It doesn’t look like someone that belongs here at all, clothing out of place and demeanor almost threatening. It sends an icy chill through his body as the crowd reers on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They disappear around the corner with one last glance at him, but they’re too far away to make out any features underneath the hood. As they turn, Louis barely catches the sight of their shoes. There’s something written on the side and it looks so familiar that Louis’ breath catches for a moment, but he can’t place it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The person is out of sight and Louis blinks black to the arena, just as the timer goes off. Harry’s on the ground now, covered in dirt and sweat and grime, but he’s got the widest smile Louis’ ever seen stretching across his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he glances back up at the clock, it reads 8.5 seconds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stills, mouth dropping open in shock. Around him, the crowd roars, sounds </span>
  <span>reverberating</span>
  <span> in Louis’ brain until it becomes a deafening hum in the background.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s done it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis snaps back into action. He cheers so loudly that the people around him turn to look, but he doesn’t pay them any attention to them. He’s still the slightest bit caught off guard at being bumped into, but that doesn’t matter right now either, because. Harry’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>won</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s won and he’s standing up now, looking directly at Louis. He knows Harry wouldn’t risk pointing or making a scene, but the message is obvious. He’s done this for himself and his father first, but he’s also done this because of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Louis</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time everyone clears out and Harry comes to take him home, they don’t make it past the foyer before they’re falling onto the sofa and losing themselves in each other all over again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>+</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis wakes up on the living room floor some hours later, draped halfway across Harry’s body. The blanket has been thrown off of them in their sleep but Harry’s grip around his waist is unrelenting. It takes him a moment to really orient himself, to recognize the reason he woke up was because the phone is ringing in the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry,” he whispers. “Hey, the phone is ringing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh,” Harry jolts awake, calming when he seems to understand what Louis’ just said. “I’ll - I’ll go get it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He yawns, stretching and heading to pick it up. Louis’ heartbeat quickens and he follows close behind him, the phone going silent just as they get to it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a voicemail,” Harry mutters sleepily, reaching forward to press the speaker button. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of quick, uneven breathing fills the room from the phone and it isn’t either of theirs. There are no words left, just the few seconds of breathing before the line goes dead again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s face has hardened now, his chest rising and falling as he hangs up the phone again. He opens his mouth a few times but ends up just shaking his head while Louis stands to the side, paralyzed with fear. He’d known this would probably happen at some point but it doesn’t make it any easier to handle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m scared,” Louis admits quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Immediately there are hands on him, rubbing his back and coaxing him further into the embrace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, look at me,” Harry mutters, “You’re safe here, Louis. I’d never let anything happen to you, alright?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He keeps Louis close to him while he dials up Louis’ management, filling them in on the situation and telling them to give them any updates. With a promise to track the call and watch some of the recent footage of the house and the front road, they hang up as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s - Louis doesn’t much care about himself anymore, is the thing. As disheartening as that thought is, Louis’ focus is more on Harry now. He’s seen the gun he keeps in the nightstand next to his bed, but, given they know their location, who’s to say how they might choose to attack? One weapon might not be enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But what if they know where we are? What if they try to hurt you, too? It’s different now, Harry. They’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>here </span>
  </em>
  <span>now. They know where we are and I can’t, Harry, I can’t -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh, baby blue. Listen to me - I will not let </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> hurt you,” Harry says slowly, letting it sink in. “They’re tracing the call right now. Once they find them they’ll be arrested and they won’t be able to bother you anymore. You can finally get on with your life, Louis,” he soothes. “Until then, all we can do is wait and keep you safe and sound.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis’ lip wobbles even as an inspirational smile graces Harry’s features. He wants this to be over as much as Harry does, but he doesn’t know quite how to tell him that going back to L.A. isn’t something he wants to do anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling drained, Louis leans forward to put his face in Harry’s neck and clings to him with his legs. He doesn’t want </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> to get hurt in this whole situation, but especially not Harry. He’d never forgive himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t want you to get hurt,” he rephrases, hoping Harry understands this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Louis. I’m right here, darlin’. M’not going anywhere, I promise,” he says. “Already told you - as long as you want me, baby blue.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lips find Harry’s easily, the wet skin of his cheek sliding against his face until their mouths are pressed firmly together. He feels better now but he’s still jittery with nerves, and he tries desperately to communicate everything he doesn’t yet know how to say through the kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take me to bed?” Louis whispers, sniffling around his tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry frames his face gently, stroking all over his heated skin with the tips of his fingers and the back of his hand. His brow curls in concern, his bottom lip stuck between his front teeth. Louis’ eyes follow the motion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure that’s a good idea right now?” Harry asks, “I don’t wanna -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, Harry, I need to - need to feel you right now, okay? I need to feel safe.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When his voice breaks Harry begins to as well, shoulders relaxing as he accepts Louis further into his space. With a soft sigh, he nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever you need, baby.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s unsteady on the walk up to Harry’s bedroom, clinging to him for support. Neither of them say a word as they undress, climbing onto the bed naturally. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens Louis up tenderly while he lays face down on the pillows, one stuffed underneath his hips to help with the angle. Harry is careful and quick, nimbly spreading him open until even more tears leak out onto the material. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry - Hazza, ready. M’ready,” Louis reaches behind him blindly, searching for his skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out of the corner of his eye, Louis sees him reach for the first drawer of the nightstand. He puts his hand on top of Harry’s wrist to stop him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Louis,” Harry breathes - a question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wanna feel you,” he repeats, blinking harshly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, he feels Harry pull away from him to grab his chin, meeting his eye directly so he can’t turn away from the contact. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, are you sure about this? We didn’t talk about it before.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A soothing hand runs up and down the length of his spine, smooth lips tracing behind the touch as his back rises and falls with his choppy breathing. Despite the soft touches, Harry listens intently for his explanation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I - I’ve been thinking about it. Neither of us have been with anyone in months, I just thought - I need to feel -” </span>
  <em>
    <span>something he’s never felt with anyone else</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He cuts himself off with a poorly concealed sob, biting his lip to keep from embarrassing himself further. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Does Harry not want that with him?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, baby, it’s okay. That’s fine, just wanted to make sure before, alright? We don’t have to use one. You’re alright, baby doll.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he’s honest, Louis isn’t quite sure why </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> wants it. It’s just - he’s never felt close with anyone in the past, not the way he does with Harry, and it feels </span>
  <em>
    <span>necessary</span>
  </em>
  <span> right now. He’s scared and craving security that he’s convinced only Harry can give to him, the only one that can soothe the gaping ache inside of his chest with each slow drawl and honeyed endearment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The call could mean anything. It could be nothing, but it could mean that someone knows where they are, could somehow be connected to the man Louis saw at the competition. The unknown is almost more frightening than a straight answer, trying to live normally while he’s constantly looking over his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If they’ve got only a limited time left together Louis plans to make every second of it count. If he never gets to feel this close with someone ever again, he won’t take it for granted. Even if they make it out of this safely, at some point he’ll have to go back to L.A., back to his old life and away from </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He quite literally has to live like this is the last day of his life, because it just might be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing with relief, Louis goes lax into the bedsheets once again when the condom lands back inside the wooden drawer. Harry’s fingers return to him after a few more seconds doused in slick lube, warmed up from his body temperature alone. He arches into the touch almost habitually. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he tells him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M’here for you, Louis, alright?” Harry lifts his hand to press a kiss to the back of it, “I’ve got you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry pushes into him tenderly, fingers a steady weight on his hipbones, leaving marks on the flesh. He wastes no time in adjusting, sliding out and back in again, snug to Louis’ arse. He feels so much closer this way, so much more real, and Louis clings to him as best he can between their uneven thrusts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can tell Harry’s nervous too despite how well he hides it, rocking into him frantically and kissing all over his face and neck and hair. Louis can’t see him directly, but the weight of Harry blanketing over his back is enough right now to keep him grounded, focused on this and only this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he pants. “Thank you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry just kisses him harder, grabbing his face to turn it to the side. Every drag of his hips sends Louis’ cock moving against the mattress, pressure on both sides of him proving to be too much to handle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes only a few minutes more until he’s coming, squeezing hard around Harry in an effort to keep him there. He shakes through it as he feels Harry bite down onto his neck, stifling a loud moan as he begins to come too, filling Louis up from the inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The feeling lasts for ages and seconds all at once, their bodies still subtly rocking together in a soothing motion. Harry kisses his cheek and turns on his side, pulling Louis with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no - don’t pull out,” he whines, scooting back to keep them connected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S’okay, baby doll, just getting a tissue.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry kisses his shoulder and, true to his word, produces a tissue from the nightstand to wipe down Louis’ chest. Louis doesn’t realize he’s crying until Harry wipes his face with his hand, pressing his lips all over Louis’ heated skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis thinks he’s saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re okay, you’re okay</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but he can’t even tell anymore. And he won’t be able to until morning when he can start all over again, and maybe not even then. He can sense something in his bones like he’s never been able to before, sitting heavy in his belly. The only thing keeping him from completely losing it is Harry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he gives in to the soft mantra and lets himself be held, shushed back to sleep under the soothing tone. He fights it at first, determined to stare up at Harry’s face and soak in every last detail he can until he can’t, but he loses that battle too. His eyes shut by themselves, his brain stuck somewhere between black hoodies and dirty shoes and the infinite safety of Harry’s arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>+</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One moment Louis is fast asleep in Harry’s arms, his body light and comfortable and still satisfied from earlier that night. The next, his eyes are peeled wide open, the sound of loud creaking coming from downstairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The heavy arm around his waist tells him that Harry is still here so it can’t be him. Louis holds his breath for a few moments, listening as the creaks continue to get louder, sounding from different areas of the house like they’re looking for something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry,” Louis whispers, grabbing onto his bicep to shake him awake. “Harry, wake up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wha - what is it,” his head jerks up from the pillow, immediately glancing around the room with half-shut eyes while his arm tightens, pulling Louis back into his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think,” Louis gulps, trying to keep his voice even, “I think someone’s here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a second Harry glances seriously down at him, completely silent as he runs his gaze over all of his features, much like he had just hours before. He cups Louis’ cheek and leans in to press a hard kiss into his forehead and sits up straight on the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis watches as he swings his legs over the side silently, reaching for the bedside table. He grabs a key from behind the lamp and unlocks the top drawer, throwing a glance over his shoulder at Louis as he slides the gun out, looking heavy and wrong inside of his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He breathes in deeply through his nose, glancing away from Harry to focus. Still naked below the sheets, Louis sits up himself and grabs a pair of Harry’s joggers and a t-shirt from the armchair. He slips them on in slow motion, eerily calm as the noises continue to sound throughout the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next he grabs his phone from the nightstand on his own side, typing out a shaky text to his manager like he’d been instructed to do should anything happen. Louis gets a red exclamation point as a response, a sign that the message hadn’t been delivered due to the reception. Blinking away nervous tears, he switches over to the phone app and dials the emergency number, fumbling to hang up when all he gets is the busy signal. He shuts his eyes and breathes in deeply, slowly setting the phone back down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s been plenty of times he’d heard false alarms. Once offs that just happened to be the weather or the old house shifting. This time, for some reason he can’t quite explain, he’s certain it’s the real thing. It was only a matter of time and now that it's here he’s left wondering why they hadn’t prepared better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he’d thought it wouldn’t actually happen. And before the competition, he might have believed that. But after seeing whoever it was in the crowd, it became </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span>. All of the signs he was convinced he’d just imagined came rushing back to him, arranging themselves one by one until it all became clear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He considers trying to go out the window, escaping in Harry’s truck before whoever it is can even realize they’re up here. But the creaks are beginning to sound a lot more like consistent footsteps and Harry’s already approaching the door, the gun held tightly in his hand. They can’t run anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, don’t - don’t leave me,” Louis whimpers, darting forward to grab onto his arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, Louis,” Harry whispers to him, “M’not going anywhere. Stay behind me, alright?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They take slow steps forward, pressed together. The floorboards creak under them again but it hadn’t been from them. It’s unmistakably the sound of the crooked floorpiece in the hallway, their only warning that someone is out there. This time he’s sure it isn’t just the wind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis shakes but Harry stays solid even as the noises get louder. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Where are the police? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Louis thinks desperately. They’ve only got so many bullets and neither of them have been trained in any sort of physical combat. If this person has any other weapons, they’re screwed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s hit with a wave of biting anger when he thinks back to his management. Why hadn’t they taught them anything? Had they not anticipated their location being found, or had they simply thought their lives weren’t important enough to be fought for should the worst outcome happen? Louis’ frustrated about every time he’s come to them with a legitimate fear and they’d brushed him off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t matter now. Footsteps echo in the long hallway to the bedroom as if whoever it is doesn’t care that they can hear them. Somehow, that thought is even scarier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry cocks the gun in his hand, shifting forward to aim for the middle of the doorway. Though he seems perfectly calm on the outside, Louis can feel his heart hammering just as hard as his is where his chest is pressed to Harry’s back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doorknob twists just like a scene from one of the horror movies Louis remembers watching as a teen, slowly turning until it clicks, still locked from when they’d gone to bed hours earlier. There’s scratching and another quiet click before everything goes silent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a few blissful seconds Louis lets himself believe that that’s it - the locked door will protect them from any harm. But it’s old, and it’s loose on its hinges and Louis knows it wouldn’t take much to - </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door bangs open in a flurry of movement, banging against the wall and leaving a hole where the knob hit. Every detail he notices feels like a waste of time, paralyzed as a silhouette fills in the exposed space from the hall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dressed in all black just like the man from Harry’s competition, Louis fights to see who it is. He knows the risks, knows he could very well be about to lose his life, but if this is the only chance he gets he wants to know who dedicated so much of their time to keeping him under their thumb he’s got to try. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t get a chance. In seconds, Harry’s fumbling for the trigger but he doesn’t reach it in time. Since they’re so close to the door, the other person darts forward and knocks it out of his hand, knocking Harry on the side of his head with his own gun until he falls to the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It happens so fast that Louis barely registers Harry giving him one last shove to safety in the opposite direction, the sound of Harry’s body hitting the floor echoing in his ears over the ringing. Louis stumbles backward until he hits the corner of the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With wide eyes and stuttering breath, he glances over quickly to check for damage. Harry’s bleeding steadily down the side of his face and he seems to be unconscious, but he doesn’t have any other wounds. If he can distract their attacker long enough, maybe Harry will wake up or the police will get here - the gun hadn’t been kicked away and still rests near Harry’s pale cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looks like you haven’t changed a bit,” they deadpan, gun lowering to their side as they step toward him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Louis </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> that voice. He’s heard that voice a thousand times when he was younger, coaxing him into things he’ll never be able to take back, to apologize for. The same voice that laughed at him when they kissed for the first time, the same one that made him insecure about ever taking his clothes off again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The same one that told him he would never amount to anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thomas,” Louis gasps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Surprised you actually managed to figure out it was me,” he says, sliding the hood from over his head, “Certainly took you long enough.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis glances down at his shoes, at the same ones he’d seen earlier. Now he remembers. The handwriting on them is his own from ages ago, a quote from an old movie he can’t remember now. That doesn’t offer him much explanation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why - why are you doing this to me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis racks his brain for any kind of motive, anything that would have caused such a need for revenge, but nothing comes. If anything, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thomas</span>
  </em>
  <span> deserves some karma for his actions, not Louis. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unperturbed by his tumultuous inner monologue, Thomas laughs loudly until his head falls backward, a crazy glint in his eye. Louis’ gaze flicks to the gun on the ground behind him but he knows he won’t be able to reach it. If he tried, they’d both end up dead. His only option here is to keep him talking until Harry wakes up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you think, Louis?” Thomas spits, waving the gun in his hand around as he gesticulates. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I - I don’t know,” he stutters, trying not to let the deep, raging fear seep into his tone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His brain scrambles to put all of the pieces together as he glances between Thomas and Harry and the open door, his palms sweating and heartbeat ringing inside of his ears. It’s been a long time since Louis’ seen him but he still remembers how impulsive he is, how little it took to push him over the edge. If he doesn’t play his cards right, Louis’ certain he’ll end up dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you remember when we were younger, when we were inseparable? Remember all of the conversations we would have about the future?” Thomas spits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis nods hesitantly, gulping around his dry throat, “Yeah.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do? Could have fooled me,” he snarls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wants to shake him, step forward and grab his shoulders and ask him </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> but he has to be patient. Louis laces his fingers together to reduce the tremors in his arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were supposed to do it </span>
  <em>
    <span>together</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Thomas hisses, his voice raising and lowering to each extreme, “it was always supposed to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flashbacks pop into his mind, hazy conversations in Thomas’ garage about how they would get famous together and live in a huge mansion in Hollywood, swimming in their money and Thomas’ drugs. Louis’ secretly endless ideas of how he could possibly manage to get away from him. Louis knew they’d spoken about it but he hadn’t thought he took it so seriously, just two kids high on cheap drugs from the bad side of town. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did an interview two years ago. They asked you who you owe your success to. Do you know what you said?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thomas stalks closer again, tilting his head almost comically. That’s fine, Louis reasons numbly, he’s farther away from Harry that way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said </span>
  <em>
    <span>no one</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You said you were self-made. That all of your success was your own,” he laughs, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Bullshit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You would’ve gotten nowhere without me. Do you realize that, Louis? Do you? Before that I was feeling generous,” Thomas shrugs, wiping a piece of lint off of the barrel of his gun as if it isn’t an incredibly dangerous weapon he could fire at any given second. “But when I heard you say that - when I heard you take credit for all of those ideas that </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> planted in your head - yeah, I got a little </span>
  <em>
    <span>angry</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t - I don’t know what you want me to say,” Louis sighs, already exasperated while he racks his brain for some way to calm him down. Maybe he’d cave if Louis promised him money? Somewhere to live? Connections? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know it’s true. You try to pretend you’re actually worth something but you know you aren’t. You’re still a scared little boy from Doncaster, too afraid to be himself. You’re a </span>
  <em>
    <span>brat</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You’ve never known true pain, Louis. Never had to work for your success. You abandon everyone who ever loved you and somehow you still get everything you wanted?” Thomas scoffs. “Nah, that doesn’t sit right with me,” he glares. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of their breathing fills the room. Louis’ uneven gulps, Thomas’ angry huffs, and over in the corner Harry’s small puffs of breath where he’s still seemingly unconscious. Louis forces his eyes back to Thomas so he won’t get suspicious any more than he already is, but he seems to still be caught up in his own world anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After you left, you didn’t even call back to see how I was. You didn’t care that I was homeless, that I lost everything I had.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It isn’t my fault that you gambled everything away, Thomas,” Louis says quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You shut the fuck up,” he growls, quickly re-aiming the gun at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyes to the ground, Louis sucks in a few heavy breaths to stay focused. Now isn’t the time to get scared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In fact, when he thinks about it, he isn’t as terrified as he thought he’d be. He’s gone numb for the most part, frozen in the middle of the bedroom floor while he waits to see what happens next. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is me being selfish,” Thomas bites. “You got to have your fun. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> turn now. I may not have always done the right thing but I </span>
  <em>
    <span>fought</span>
  </em>
  <span> for what I have. I fought to stay </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Louis. And it’s not - it’s not fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>fair</span>
  </em>
  <span> that everything just fell right into your lap. What makes you so special, huh? You don’t deserve any of this. It would be one thing if you kept in touch, if you’d even sent a thank you note,” he barks a laugh, “But you didn’t even do </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You left and didn’t look back. Didn’t care.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s stepped even closer now, enough that Louis can see the smaller details. He can make out the fabric of his shirt, the same one he’d seen at the rodeo. He can see his face lit up from the window, a sliver of moonlight over his tired, bagged eyes and the uneven stubble around his mouth and jaw. He’s always been a bit unhinged and before Louis might’ve felt bad for him, but he can’t even bring himself to do that when his finger passes over the trigger of the gun so sparingly every few seconds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My parents are dead, Louis. My sister ran off pregnant with her thug of a boyfriend. You were my only friend and you - you </span>
  <em>
    <span>left</span>
  </em>
  <span> me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Thomas -” Louis starts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t. Save it. Save it for someone who actually cares what you have to say. Like - like whoever the fuck this guy is,” Thomas scoffs, nudging Harry’s foot roughly with his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dull movement sparks his anger all over again. He can insult Louis all he wants, for leaving and for being an awful person and whatever else, but not Harry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t touch him,” he mutters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh? I’ve hit a sore spot, hm? You love him like you said you loved me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never loved you,” Louis shakes his head. “We were teenagers, Thomas. We were just talking, it was all hypothetical -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> to make it hurt, don’t you,” he whispers, eyes narrowing in on Louis. “The least you could do is fucking pretend.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Louis says nothing, Thomas moves back to stand in front of him again. Louis can still smell the cigarettes and the alcohol, sticking to his clothes like thick, spoiled honey. He doesn’t flinch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you scared?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was,” Louis admits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thomas raises a brow, huffing through his mouth. Noting the way nothing about him has changed over the years, Louis’ glad </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> has. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What changed?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gaze flicking to Harry for a split second, Louis masks his emotion. The police should have been here by now from the front cameras and the alarm system anyway but Louis never really trusted them. Not when it mattered. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Come on, Harry</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thinks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wake up</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone’s always said that Louis only cares about himself. For what it’s worth, he thinks, this is him proving them wrong. Even if no one ever knows it happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want, Thomas?” he asks flatly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want you to feel how I felt after you left. I want you to feel all of the pain that I did, watching you climb to the top and leave the rest of us behind like you never even knew us. For once in your pathetic life I want to knock you off of that fucking high horse you think you’re on and see what it’s like for the rest of us,” he mutters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis swallows thickly once more, eyeing the gun still cocked near Thomas’ hip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if I said I was sorry?” Louis tries. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t believe you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Stop it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Louis. There’s only one reason I came here,” he shifts until their chests are touching, his breath uncomfortably hot on his forehead, “And I think we both know what that is.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis’ eyes squeeze shut when he feels the cold barrel of the gun on the side of his head. He’s scared, undeniably, but it still isn’t as all consuming as he’d thought it would be. Still, his breathing quickens noticeably and Thomas chuckles. Louis’ voice has gone shaky when he opens his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thomas, you don’t have to -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said shut </span>
  <em>
    <span>up</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You’ve called the shots for too long. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved</span>
  </em>
  <span> you. You were my everything, and you just </span>
  <em>
    <span>left</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” just a hint of real emotion seeps into his tone and for a second Louis thinks maybe he can keep reasoning with him, but the gun knocks into his head harshly again and it knocks the breath out of him once more. “Well now you don’t get to have the choice. You want to be gone, Louis? You want to leave and never look back? I’m doing you and everyone else a </span>
  <em>
    <span>favor</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re better than this, Thomas. You can get some help, it isn’t too late. They’ll work with you on the drugs, and -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>daft</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” He spits. “This is over. They know who I am now. They were on their way to arrest me when I left to come here. We started this </span>
  <em>
    <span>together</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Louis, and we’re going to end it together too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis’ tongue feels heavier than it ever has inside of his mouth, useless and too patient. He’s never struggled to find the words before but the fear is catching up with him again now, the thought of impending danger heavy on his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any final words?” Thomas muses darkly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not something Louis ever thought he’d be asked. He’s thinking about too much and too little to come up with something eloquent, but he figures no one will ever hear them anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before coming here, he would've said no. Nothing would’ve been important enough to earn his last words, the last thing he leaves behind. He’d lead such an empty life with hollow relationships and phony fame that there hadn’t been one underlying thing that made it all worth it. Before, he would’ve gone in silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, though, a single word - no, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>name</span>
  </em>
  <span>, fights its way up his throat as if being forced, on the tip of his tongue without having to think about it. The only reason he’s got newfound hope for his life and a more positive outlook, something he actually looks forward to each day when he wakes up. The reason he managed to find some things in himself that he actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>likes</span>
  </em>
  <span> instead of the old, recycled mantra of </span>
  <em>
    <span>not good enough</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Brat. Spoiled. Undeserving. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The reason he wants to keep living and the reason he’s willing to go all at once. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry,” he breathes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thomas’ brows turn in for a moment, confusion clear on his features. “‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Harry’</span>
  </em>
  <span>? What are you -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A gunshot cuts through the silence of the room. Louis braces for the impact automatically, absently wondering if he’ll die upon impact or if it’ll take a while, if he’ll get to see Harry one last time as he fades out. He hopes that Harry won’t have to see his body afterward, that the cops will show up before then so he won’t be left with any long term trauma. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes him too long to realize he hasn’t been shot. Instead, Thomas crumples to the ground in front of him, limbs twisting awkwardly as he collapses, the gun skidding across the floor with a clang. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry sits across the floor from them on his side, his own gun nestled in his shaking hands. He glances up at Louis with wide eyes and an open mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis sobs, tripping over his own feet to get to him. Falling to his knees, he takes Harry’s bleeding face in his hands and strokes over the blooming bruise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are - are you okay, Lou? Did he -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine. You’re hurt, though. We need to,” he trails off, glancing helplessly for something to wipe his face with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not important,” Harry insists, “We need to get you out of here, need to get you safe.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With more strength than Louis himself can muster, Harry raises from the floor on his legs and leans down to take Louis in his arms, leading him from the room after he picks up Thomas’ gun from the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t kill ‘im,” Harry says, “S’just his leg. He should be out until they get here but he’ll wake up eventually.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding dumbly, Louis cries silent tears while Harry strokes a hand down the back of his head and murmurs softly to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has so much he wants to say to him but he doesn’t feel like he could talk. All that comes out when he tries are broken, strangled whimpers, and Harry shushes him so he settles back into his chest without trying again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Swaying softly on the front porch of the house, Louis opens his eyes when bright red and blue lights consume the darkness. </span>
  <em>
    <span>They’re safe</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Armed officers rush past them to where Harry points and his manager is calling his name to get his attention but it’s all he can think: </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe. Safe. Safe. </span>
  </em>
  <span>They’re</span>
  <em>
    <span> safe. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He barely registers them carrying Thomas to the police car as he limps, silver cuffs clinking when he moves. Several of them are asking him questions but Louis burrows further into Harry’s shirt in response. They can wait. Vaguely, something is mentioned about coming back in the morning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And morning is only a few hours away now, hints of sunlight peeking over the crops out front. As he watches it come over the hill and slowly illuminate the land, he thinks it looks an awful lot like a fresh beginning. Like the new chance he’d been hoping for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis still doesn’t completely know what he wants in life, but he knows he won’t find it in L.A.. He won’t find it in a movie script or a character he has to play, not at a party or in paparazzi pictures on the internet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His best chance, really, is here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t even take any convincing. It’s his own choice now that Thomas is taken care of, whether or not Louis wants to leave. There’s no more paychecks or obligations. He’s free. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they come over to take a statement from him, all of the eyes flicker to where they’re standing. They look him over, waiting to see what he’s going to say. And Louis knows they want details, a backstory of some sort. They want evidence and gossip and drama. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A recorder is brought up and held in front of his face. Harry’s arms tighten around him, his low breaths warm and comforting on the back of his neck. He leans back into the embrace and opens his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to stay.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. 0.2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>One of Louis’ favorite things is the smell of the ground after it rains. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s earthy and natural and it gathers thickly over the entire expanse of land, spreading wide from the growing crops to the barn where the animals call for their morning meals. Breathing it in deeply for a moment, Louis smiles as he descends the front steps and heads for the barn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He uses his own keys from his belt to unlock the doors, flicking on the light switch. His boots make imprints in the hay scattered below, headed for the farthest stall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning, Bes,” he says. She’s much healthier now but they keep her in the stall at nighttime so there’s less risk if she collapses or gets confused in the field outside. Louis pats her head softly and stands by with his hands out as she gets to her feet, pushing open the stall door further. “You ready to see your babies?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bessie’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>babies</span>
  </em>
  <span> are no longer truly babies anymore. They’re nearly fully grown cows now, milling about happily in the grass behind the barn. It never fails to make Louis grin when they stumble over themselves to see their mother, loosening his tight hold on Bessie once she gets situated underneath a large oak tree with her children. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hears the front door slam shut and heavy footfalls in the mud from the fresh rain, grinning as he bends down to untie the rope he’d been using to lead her outside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re late,” Louis quips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m sorry,” Harry hums sarcastically. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Someone</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t want to stay and help me clean up breakfast.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, well-” Louis stands and spins to face him but he can’t get anything out before Harry’s kissing him, the taste of syrup still heavy on both of their lips. He doesn’t even bother fighting it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis’ learned a lot about the countryside since he’s been here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He likes it because it doesn’t change. In L.A., everything he did was a scandal. It was splashed on tabloids and spread like the latest gossip, everyone’s opinions of him changing with the days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Here, none of it matters. The animals seem to like him regardless of social status, uncaring of whether or not he’s a celebrity. The sun comes up each morning and the moon at night in a predictable pattern but it’s the farthest thing from boring. In fact, Louis’ grown to be quite enamored by the routine. He’d been too busy to appreciate it before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s learned that he can have spontaneity without craziness, can be excited without the restless, guilty feeling that often came with it. He can be </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy</span>
  </em>
  <span> here. It’s more like a movie than anywhere he’s ever been, better than any storyline he would’ve hoped to get a script for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabs Harry’s hand as they walk back to the barn to tend to the rest of them, and then around the back of the house to the plants. The mostly brown array of flowers and weeds that was there when Louis first arrived all those months ago is gone now. In its place is bright, blooming peonies and sunflowers, greenery sprouting from every flower bed. The greenhouse is actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>green</span>
  </em>
  <span> now, he muses. He’s enjoyed watching everything grow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They don’t waste any time running through the rest of the chores because it’s Saturday, and Saturday’s are date nights. Just as soon as they finish up outside, he leaves Harry downstairs while he runs up to their bedroom to shower and change. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blue cotton is still just as soft as he always remembers it being, slightly worn from having it on so much. He gives a twirl when he reaches the bottom step of the stairs and glances back over his shoulder to catch Harry’s reaction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just can’t get enough a’me, can you?” Harry drawls with a grin, stepping forward to trace his fingers absently over the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Save a Horse...</span>
  </em>
  <span> portion of the shirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Later,” Louis scolds, taking his hand to drag him outside. “We’re going into town tonight, remember?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t dream of forgettin’, baby blue.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugs Harry’s jacket over his shoulders to hide the front of the shirt, slipping the boots back on and heading out to the truck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis still remembers the first time he went out with Harry into town without any sort of disguise, being introduced to all of the nice old ladies and the other animals. It’d felt like entering some other world, like he’d stumbled into a Hallmark film. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It isn’t really any different now. He feels just as special when they walk into the diner and they know his name, offering him free food and big, warm hugs. It’s the kind of closeness- the kind of </span>
  <em>
    <span>connection</span>
  </em>
  <span> that Louis’ been searching for his entire life and never quite found anywhere else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes Harry’s hand to step down from the truck, leaning into his side under his arm as they walk into the italian restaurant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Louis, Harry,” the owner cheers, excusing herself from another couple to seat them. “Same table?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Course,” Harry answers, grinning and letting his hand linger on Louis’ lower back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re always seated in the far back of the place, right next to the floor tile that’s chipping. Louis could probably find it with his eyes closed at this point. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They slide into the booth on the same side like usual, Harry’s arm thrown around the back of his shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You boys want your regular?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Louis picks up the menu laid out in front of him even though he already knows what he’s going to get, listening to Harry recite his order. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I’ll do the vegetable plate,” he decides after Harry’s finished. “Extra okra, please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got it,” she smiles, headed back to the kitchen with their menus. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their conversation isn’t anything new but Louis never quite tires of it. After so long living in constant fear and having such a hectic schedule, he’s more than happy to focus on the same few things now. On what’s truly </span>
  <em>
    <span>important</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He picks up Harry’s hand from his shoulder and presses his lips to the back of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t take long to eat, not when Louis’ been teasing him about tonight all day long. Harry knows what ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>date night</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ means after many before this one, even though nearly every other night of the week ends the same way. He watches Harry shovel down his food while Louis takes his time with small bites, grinning when Harry groans. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s ushered back out of the restaurant as they wave goodbye and make plans for the same time next week, pulling back out onto the backroads to head back home for the night. Harry helps him back down from the car and bundles him up in his jacket to keep him from shivering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, shoot,” Louis says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Harry asks, looking concerned as he rests a gentle hand on Louis’ shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We missed Andy Griffith.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Technically that isn’t a problem anymore since they set up some internet connection, and they can watch any episode of it whenever they want. Harry’s a stickler for originality though, and they try to catch them when they really come on every night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry grins and tackles him in a hug from behind, walking with his arms around his waist back to the house. It’s dark outside now but Louis still feels safe, completely unrelated to the new flood lights they’ve installed last month. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He unlocks the house and disables the fancy alarm system once they’re inside, slipping the jacket from Louis’ shoulders to hang back on the hook. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was lovely,” Harry says. “Now let’s get this off of you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry pulls at their clothes immediately, reaching simultaneously for Louis’ pants and his shirt at the same time and somehow getting them all tangled up in the process. He nearly knocks over one of Louis’ awards displayed on the table in his haste. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not so fast,” Louis laughs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grabbing his arm, he slows Harry until they come to a stop, just holding each other in the wide foyer. It’s quiet when he leans his head back into Harry’s chest, but it isn’t uncomfortable. It feels calm, instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love you,” Harry murmurs, lips pressed to the side of his forehead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love you, too,” Louis grins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he catches sight of them in the hallway mirror, he stops for a moment to get a better look. They’re both grinning, Harry’s dimples on full display while he presses kisses across the side of Louis’ head. Louis’ own mouth is pulled wide so much that his cheeks hurt, happy laughter falling from his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels safe with Harry’s hands around his hips, the noise of the TV in the background with the rodeo championships on. His own pair of specially made boots rests next to Harry’s by the door, their matching keys hanging on the hook above them. He can’t wait for the next farmer’s market, the next date night, the next movie they watch together. He can’t wait for all of the meticulously planned spontaneity and surprises. He can’t wait to spend the rest of his life here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he catches his own eyes in the mirror, they’re a bright, sparkling baby blue. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>you can reblog this fic <a href="https://soldouthaz.tumblr.com/post/622418484263026688/%F0%9D%9A%8B%F0%9D%9A%8A%F0%9D%9A%8B%F0%9D%9A%A2-%F0%9D%9A%8B%F0%9D%9A%95%F0%9D%9A%9E%F0%9D%9A%8E-%F0%9D%99%B4-%F0%9D%9F%BA%F0%9D%9F%B6%F0%9D%9A%94-%F0%9D%9A%8B%F0%9D%99%BB-%F0%9D%99%B7%F0%9D%9A%8A%F0%9D%9A%9B%F0%9D%9A%9B%F0%9D%9A%A2-%F0%9D%9A%82%F0%9D%9A%9D%F0%9D%9A%A2%F0%9D%9A%95%F0%9D%9A%8E%F0%9D%9A%9C-%F0%9D%9A%9D%F0%9D%9A%8A%F0%9D%9A%94%F0%9D%9A%8E%F0%9D%9A%9C-%F0%9D%9A%91%F0%9D%9A%92%F0%9D%9A%9C">here</a> :)</p><p>you can find me on tumblr and twitter @soldouthaz</p></blockquote></div></div>
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